


A Place Called Amestris

by blackash26



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2723783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackash26/pseuds/blackash26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For as long as Harry Potter could remember in his short, miserable life, his favorite time had been night. Not because it was quiet. Not because he finally had some relief from yelling and chores. Not because he sometimes had a chance to sneak out of cupboard and get some food.</p><p>No. He loved the night because at night he dreamed.</p><p>At night he was never alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tigrislupa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigrislupa/gifts).



> I started writing this last fall for Tigrislupa's birthday. I intended this story to be a short and sweet series of drabbles. Given how these things always go, it's gotten way out of hand and it's still not finished, but I figured it was about time that I put this out there for other people to enjoy.
> 
> I owe a big thanks to prosaly on tumblr for betaing this and helping me through some rough spots.
> 
> FMA/HP crossovers are a dime a dozen so I wanted to do something a bit different here. Hopefully I managed that.

**Night**

For as long as Harry Potter could remember in his short miserable life, his favorite time had been night. Not because it was quiet. Not because he finally had some relief from yelling and chores. Not because he sometimes had a chance to sneak out of cupboard and get some food.

No. He loved the night because at night he dreamed.

At night he was never alone.

\--

**Dreams**

The world of his dreams was not perfect.

There was a gaping hole in that place where someone he barely remembered was supposed to be.

The woman’s kind face was lined with unspoken pain.

But there were always enough hugs to go around. And though smiles were strained, they were real. Food…there was even enough food for him too.

Above everything else, he was never, ever alone.

As far as Harry was concerned, it was heaven.

\--

**Circles**

One day while he was weeding the garden for his aunt, Harry paused and considered the dark, rich earth beneath his fingers.

It did not take long for him to find a small stick.

With careful movements he used the stick to draw a familiar circle in the dirt. He had drawn it over and over in his dreams. Recreating it now was as easy as breathing.

When it was finished he set aside the stick and placed his hands on the edge of the circle.

He held his breath and focused.

Nothing happened.

Harry stared for a long time at the useless drawing he had made. Then Dudley found him and reported the devilish design directly to Aunt Petunia.

Only once the beating was over and Harry was safely back inside his cupboard did he allow himself to cry.

\--

**Mother**

His dream mother was dying.

It was an agonizingly slow process, watching her fade away.

She stayed strong for them until the very end. That only made it worse.

Harry wondered if it was better to lose someone all at once or in pieces, bit by bit until there was nothing left. Or perhaps it was better not to remember them at all?

He tried to remember anything at all about his real mother, but there was nothing.

At least he would never forget his dream mother.

\--

**Determination**

They were going to bring Mother back.

Nothing would stop them.

\--

**Teacher**

The Teacher in his dreams was a lot scarier than the teachers at Harry’s primary school. Teacher was scarier than the bullies that chased Harry around the school yard. Teacher was even scarier than Harry’s Aunt and Uncle.

The alchemy that Teacher taught may be useless in the real world, but her other lessons worked very well. Harry practiced as often as he could.

Dudley and his friends soon learned to leave Harry alone.

Harry took pride in sewing his Teacher’s symbol into his hand-me-down clothing.

He knew that if Aunt Petunia saw the symbol he would get in trouble for making devil signs, but he didn’t care. He would not give up this connection to his dream world, to his teacher and of course, to his brother.

\--

**Sin**

One night when he was ten years old, Harry Potter woke with a scream.

He screamed and screamed and would not stop. Not when his uncle dragged him out of his cupboard. Not when his uncle shouted and shook him. Not when the blows began to rain down.

Only blessed unconsciousness finally put an end to the screams.

\--

**Sensation**

He felt strange in his own body now. There and yet not. Disconnected and yet so impossibly present.

He was acutely aware of the feeling of his clothes against his skin, of his heart thumping away in his chest. Dry toast and table scraps had never tasted so good. Sleep had never been such a relief. And yet.

Every blow hurt worse than before. And hunger had never felt so sharp in his belly. His own vomit had never tasted so foul.

He was alive for better or worse. Flesh and bone rather than the steel of his dreams.

He knew he was lucky. Knew he should be as thankful as his relatives told him he should be for their kindness. And yet.

Even trapped in a suit of armor, his dream self was never alone.

\--

**Knowledge**

He dreamed of studying.

During the day he lurked in his primary school’s library, hiding from his cousin. He paged through introductory chemistry and biology textbooks. It wasn’t much, but he could at least pretend he was helping somehow.

And, if he focused hard enough on the page pressed close to his face, he could fool himself into thinking that there was someone leaning against the bookcase beside him.

When he looked, though, there was never anyone there.

\--

**Ambition**

He messed up.

He answered too many questions right on that stupid test.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.

At least in his dreams there was a reason he couldn’t complete the Exam.

But here? Now?

His stomach rumbled pathetically for food he would not be allowed.

Harry curled up in a ball in his cupboard and wished he didn’t have to eat in the real world either.

\--

**Blank**

His aunt and uncle had left him alone for the past few days. Chores were completed without him and food was even placed before him.

Harry barely noticed.

He had almost lost the only thing in this world that made his life worth living. It wasn’t even real. Just a dream. And yet. How could he have gone if –

And then…How – how could someone do that? To his own daughter?

Were people really such monsters?

\--

**Letters**

The letter was made of heavy parchment and addressed to his cupboard in elegant green ink.

That was all he saw of the letter before his uncle whisked it away.

He was much better about hiding the second one.

Brother would be proud, he thought as he sat in his cupboard with his prize. Then he remembered he didn’t really have a brother.

\--

**Possibility**

The woman who responded to his politely written reply letter was tall and her greying hair was pulled into a severe bun.

Harry found himself half expecting her to pull a gun from the depths of her slightly out of date suit jacket. Instead she pulled out a stick.

“Magic is real.” She informed him as his aunt and uncle and cousin cowered in the corner of the living room of Number 4 Privet Drive.

Then she levitated the furniture and conjured a cup of tea out of thin air.

Harry couldn’t help but wonder what had been sacrificed for these wonders. He opened his mouth to ask, but instead found himself asking a much simpler question.

“What about alchemy?” Despite their best efforts his aunt and uncle never had managed to beat the curiosity out of him. Still, even in a magical world, dreams like his would probably be considered freakish. He was tired of being a freak.

“A dead art, for the most part,” she said, giving him a long, searching look. “But the Headmaster of Hogwarts is one of the few remaining practitioners. He, more than I or anyone else, could best answer any of your questions on the subject.”

Harry nodded, resisting the urge to bow respectfully. “Thank you, Professor. In that case I would like to officially confirm my intentions to attend Hogwarts in the fall. Unfortunately, I do not know how I will acquire or pay for any of this.” He gestured at the strange supplies sheet that had come with his Hogwarts letter.

The woman scowled at his aunt and uncle before giving Harry a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, that won’t be a problem at all.”

\--

**Hero**

Being famous was not quite what he expected.

Particularly in that he hadn’t expected to be famous.

He was used to fading into the background both in this world and the other. People usually noticed him first in his dreams, because of the armor, but once his brother started talking he was quickly forgotten. He preferred it that way.

The man, who was perhaps as tall as the armor Harry wore in another world, told Harry the story of the Potters.

Later, Harry bought and read every book in Flourish and Blotts about the end of the last Wizarding War. Each conflicting tale rested heavier and heavier on his shoulders.

He didn’t feel very much like a hero.

\--

**Nightmare**

He did not always dream of the other world.

There were nights when his dreams lacked the clarity, the realness of his true dreams.

The world became muddled.

He was trapped in suffocating metal, unable to move or speak. Green light flashed. His body was disintegrating around him. He was alive, but blows came down on him from every direction from unseen attackers. Hungry…so hungry…And then there was the alley, blood spattering away from a central point like a halo. _Nina_. He was running as fast as he could but it was never enough.

There was a crazed man standing over his brother with a cleaver…

Blood. Blood _everywhere_.

He was alone.

Completely and utterly alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... it's supposed to be a surprise that Harry is Al and not Ed. Out of curiosity, were you surprised?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains Harry having something of a panic attack/flashback in the section called "Transmutation". If you find that sort of thing triggering, I suggest skipping over it. I will include a description of what happens in that section in the end notes.

**Scarlet**

Harry had never been on a train in the waking world.

The scarlet steam engine awaiting him at Platform nine and three-quarters was not quite like the trains of his dream world. But it was similar enough to make him homesick.

Not that he had a true home in either world.

But there at least he had his brother.

Ed would always be home.

\--

**Lonely**

“Anyone sitting here? Everywhere else is full.”

Harry wanted to say no to red haired boy, but he was feeling lonely. Besides, it occurred to him that now that he was free from his cousin’s looming presence he could actually try to make friends.

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down.

Only once the boy was sitting down did Harry realize that he had no idea how to be friends with someone. Luckily, Ron was pretty talkative and after the obligatory discussion of Harry’s scar, Harry found himself having fun.

\--

**Sign**

The sweet cart was a miracle. Harry had never been so thankful to have a body with working taste buds as he tried some of everything. Sharing with Ron just made it better. Having something to share and someone to share to with…it was an incredible feeling.

He was knocked out of his happy daze by the card that came with one of the mildly disturbing animated chocolate frogs. Harry’s mind raced as he read the words over and over again.

Albus Dumbledore. The Headmaster of Hogwarts. He knew alchemy. He knew…Nicolas Flamel?

Subconsciously Harry’s hand moved to touch the Flamel sewn into the rumpled hem of his hand-me-down shirt. Was there a connection? Was this a sign?

“You all right, Harry?” Ron asked with a confused smile. “It’s just a Chocolate Frog Card. Nothing special.”

“Oh. Right,” Harry said finally. He offered the other boy a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I get lost in my head sometimes. What are those, again?”

As Ron told him all about Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, Harry tucked the card into his pants pocket, out of sight but not out of mind.

\--

**Meetings**

Harry wasn’t sure what to make of the odd array of visitors that came tromping through the train compartment.

The girl with the frizzy hair that loved books seemed like a good sort, as did the kind round-faced boy who couldn’t keep ahold of his pet.

The other three, though…the pale boy and his bodyguard-like friends just seemed like bullies.

Still, Harry didn’t want to make enemies so soon into seven long years of schooling. He knew better than to judge based on appearances.

“I’m not a big fan of labels myself. And I don’t hold much stock in blood. I like to judge my friends on the merit of their actions. As I hope they’d judge me on mine,” Harry said to Draco Malfoy.

The pale boy gaped like a fish for a long moment before recovering enough to mutter. “Fine. See you then, Potter.”

Harry watched Malfoy and his friends depart before turning to Ron. “You shouldn’t have laughed at him.”

“Why not? He’s a git.” Ron muttered.

“It isn’t nice. He can’t help his name any more than you or I can. Meanness can only lead to more meanness. What’s the point?”

Ron gave him a strange look then, but Harry didn’t care. He was determined to make the best of Hogwarts.

\--

**Awe**

At the end of a dark, narrow path, Harry caught his first sight of Hogwarts.

Never before in either the world of waking or the world of dreams had he ever seen such a glorious sight.

In that moment, Harry Potter fell in love.

\--

**Name**

He almost missed his name when they call him to be sorted.

He was more used to responding to “Freak” than he was to the name his parents gave him. No one outside his dreams even knew the name he actually wished they’d use.

Not that he could blame them. He hadn’t tried to tell anyone about his dreams since he was very young. Aunt Petunia had not reacted well to questions about his real family. She had been even less pleased when his first proper sentences were in bizarre devilish tongues.

So no one knew. How could they?

He should have expected it. Even the letter had been addressed to Harry James Potter.

Still, he had hoped that because this place was magic…

Maybe they’d understand him.

That was silly of him.

\--

**Choice**

“Difficult. Very Difficult…”

Harry didn’t know whether to be fascinated or terrified by the fact that there was a soul bonded to a hat was apparently reading his mind. He certainly wanted the thing _out_ of his head.

“I’m not a soul.” The hat said, startled from its perusal of Harry’s mind. “I’m a construct created by the Founder’s themselves.”

That’s impossible, Harry’s mind protested. You can’t just make a consciousness out of thin air.

“Hmm...”

Harry shivered at the feeling of the hat-creature sifting through his mind.

“Ah, now this is odd. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such a thing. At least, I’ve never seen someone so aware of the other places their soul has trod. Still, this is not that world, child. And I have a job to do.”

“But –” Harry protested.

The hat ignored him.

“You have quite the mind. A thirst for knowledge like no other, but then knowledge is not an end to you, is it? No…but talent, ah, you do have that. And a thirst to prove yourself, though you’ve learned to reign that in. Hmm…and then there’s your loyalty. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a heart as just and kind as yours. But there’s courage too. Bravery like no other, in the face of insurmountable odds …

“Now...where to put you…?”

Harry thought about it.

Professor McGonagall had said that his House would be like his family. Any family at all would probably be better than the Dursleys. He’d heard all sorts of things about each of the different Houses on the train, but he was certain that they were all good in their own way. He supposed he could be just as happy in one House as another.

“You don’t have a preference at all?” the hat asked.

Harry frowned and shrugged his shoulders beneath the wide brim of the hat.

He thought of Ron and Malfoy on the train. He would happily be friends with both of them. Why did they both seem to think he had to choose? And then there were all the warnings people had been giving him about Slytherin in general. Everyone seemed to think so badly of them, but that seemed unfair. Even Hagrid seemed so sure that the entire House was rotten to the core.

It didn’t make sense. Why would the school keep a house of evil children? Why even teach them at all if they were truly so evil?

Perhaps he should choose Slytherin. It didn’t seem fair that one monster like Voldemort should so completely tarnish the reputation of an entire quarter of the population. If he chose Slytherin he could prove that there was nothing wrong with them.

“If you did that, everyone would be against you,” the hat observed.

So what? Harry thought to himself. There’s no reason to block out an entire house. It’s not right. It’s not fair. Someone needed to stop it.

“Ah, there it is. The courage of a lion. I know where you belong. Better be GRYFFINDOR!”

Wait, didn’t he get to choose?

As the hat was pulled from his head, one last thought reverberated through his head.

“You’re an interesting one, Mr. Elric. I hope we’ll get a chance to talk again someday.”

\--

**Transmutation**

Harry stared with wide eyes at the desk that had just been turned into a pig. And then turned back.

He was shaking.

Animal transmutation.

From…from a desk.

Even if it was impossible. She brought that creature to life. Then she _killed_ it. Like it was nothing. A simple parlor trick.

Unbidden, the image of little Nina danced in front of his eyes before transforming into the chimera Tucker had made of her and Alexander. The poor creature looked up at him with sad eyes and then he was in alley staring at the bloodied halo that had once been a sweet little girl…

Blood, so much blood. His brother was bleeding out on the floor. That thing was _not_ their mother.

His heart pounded painfully in his chest.

Harry jumped to his feet.

“Mister Potter,” Professor McGonagall said. “What on earth are you doing?”

Harry couldn’t look her in the face. “I. I don’t feel well, Professor.” He managed to get the excuse out before lurching toward the door. He ignored the Professor’s demand that someone go with him and he go to the infirmary. The moment he was out of the room he took off at a run. He couldn’t stay in that place a moment longer.

He ran as fast as he could, as though he could outrun the images in his mind.

He finally collapsed in an abandoned corridor beside an empty suit of armor. The thought of climbing into the armor was both amusing and appealing, but Harry couldn’t make himself move. Instead he sat curled up at the foot of the armor and let himself fall apart.

\--

**Potions**

Harry had been looking forward to Potions. It was the subject that seemed closest to both alchemy and chemistry.

He had not anticipated that the Professor would have some kind of vendetta against him.

Harry still couldn’t believe that the man had accused Harry of cheating when he had known the answer to two of the three questions thrown at him with warning.

Despite the deck that was clearly stacked against him, Harry refused to back down. He _liked_ potions. The Dursleys had worked very hard to teach him that life was not fair. Why should the magical world be any different? He would succeed anyway.

\--

**Flight**

Flying was…amazing. 

There was nothing like this in the world of his dreams.

And he was _good_ at it. It felt natural, like coming home.

He knew he should be mad at Malfoy for running off with Neville’s Remebrall. But it was hard to resent the chance to be in the air without Madam Hooch watching and dictating his every move.

After the ruckus from that adventure settled down (unexpected recruitment to the Quidditch team and all), Harry made sure to track Malfoy down.

“I thought you wanted to be friends.” Harry said to the pale boy.

“I do,” Malfoy replied haughtily. “You’re the one who turned me down for the Weasel.”

“Did you even listen to what I said on the train?” Harry asked in frustration. “Anyway, I can be friends with more than just one person. Being a bully is hardly the way to convince me that you’d be a good friend, though.” 

He left Malfoy alone with his thoughts.

\--

**Books**

Much to Ron’s dismay Harry spent nearly all of his free time in the library.

Harry felt a bit bad for ignoring his only friend, but not bad enough to cut back on his studying. Besides, Ron should use the time to study for their classes. Harry always finished his coursework in a quarter of the time it took Ron to even get started on an assignment.

He piled books up around him and devoured them as fast as he could. He read everything he could that could conceivably be linked to alchemy.

His studies touched on everything from Potions to Ancient Runes to Transfiguration. Finally, after weeks of searching he found a reference to one book that seemed to hold the key.

_Advanced Potion-Making_ by Libatius Borage.

The trouble was that the only copy of the book was apparently in the restricted section.

Like Harry was going to let that stop him.

\--

**Chimera**

It was around one in the morning, but Harry wasn’t tired at all.

He was tucked away in a corner of the restricted section with a lamp and _Advanced Potion-Making_. Despite its restricted status the book’s section on alchemy was painfully simple. It only included a brief historical and scientific overview of alchemy. But it was a start.

Alchemy in this world was apparently more closely related to Potions than the alchemy of his world. And almost completely focused on the Philosopher’s Stone. There was nothing in the book on anything but transforming metal into gold and eternal life. However, exactly how alchemy was done was not quite clear. Alchemists in this world were clearly just as paranoid as the Alchemists in his dreams. If he wanted to find out more about alchemy he’d need to find some alchemical manuscripts and decode them himself.

The reference section of _Advanced Potion-Making_ was just the thing he needed.

Harry began hunting through the stacks, trying to track down one of the titles in the book. The search was all the more difficult because whatever organization system Wizards used for their libraries it was certainly one whose logic Harry could not even begin to comprehend.

Finally he found one of the books, _The Golden Soul: Transcending the Bonds of the Physical_. Unfortunately the cover of the book was stuck to another book and pulling out the one necessarily pulled out the other. The second book fell open on the floor and began to shriek.

Harry grabbed the book he’d come for and made a run for it.

In the distance he could hear the shouts of the Professors on his trail. He knew better than to run directly to Gryffindor. He needed to lose his pursuers first. Finally Harry came to a short hall that he had never been in before.

The teachers were closing in, he could hear them.

Harry grabbed for the handle of the door nearest him. It was locked.

He resisted the urge to attempt a transmutation and pulled out his wand. He muttered “ _Alohomora_ ” as he tapped the lock. The door opened and he slipped inside.

It was a very good thing he had read ahead in the Charms textbook, Harry thought as he listened to the teachers’ footsteps faded away into the distance.

Only then did he notice the heavy breathing and the giant three headed chimera dog atop a…was that a trapdoor? What?

Right. Curiosity be damned. Between Filch and Death, Harry would pick Filch. Harry fumbled for the doorknob, unable to keep his eyes off the monstrous chimera in front of him. The moment the door was open he slipped out and shut the thing firmly behind him. Then he ran straight back to the tower, his book still clutched in his arms.

\--

**Mystery**

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sneaking out?” Ron complained at the breakfast table the next morning. “I would have come along!”

“I was sneaking out to go read,” Harry hissed quietly. “I figured you’d be bored witless.”

“But I missed out on the adventure!”

“I would hardly call almost being eaten by a giant chimera an adventure.”

“They’re keeping a _chimaera_ in the school? Wicked!”

Harry gave his friend an incredulous look. “I don’t see how a giant three headed dog is cool.”

“Three headed dog? I thought you said there was a chimera?”

“There is.”

“No, it sounds like a cerberus,” Ron said as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. “Though how one got into the school is anyone’s guess.”

Harry frowned. “If _that_ wasn’t a chimera, what counts as a chimera in this place?”

Ron gave him a strange look. “A chimera’s just a magical creature with a lion's head, a goat's body, and a dragon's tail.”

“Why would anyone make such a thing?” Harry didn’t pretend to understand why people created chimeras at all, but that particular combination made no sense at all.

“Make, what do you mean, make?” Ron asked. “They just come that way.”

Harry twitched. “Whatever. That thing, whatever it was, was guarding something.”

“If it was,” Hermione Granger cut in, “Then it’s there for a reason. The professors would never carelessly endanger us. And the Headmaster did warn us about the third floor corridor. That is where you went while you breaking the rules, wasn’t it?”

“Ugh,” Ron groaned. “Can’t you tell we’re having a _private_ conversation? Besides, aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“Of course not.” Hermione sniffed and stormed out of the Great Hall.

Harry rolled his eyes and went back to attempting to decode his alchemy book.

\--

**Bully**

“So? She must’ve noticed she’s got no friends,” Ron said defensively.

“You should go find her and apologize,” Harry said beginning to walk in the direction Hermione had gone.

Ron grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him to a halt. “What? Why should I?”

“You said a terrible thing about her after she tried to help you in class.”

“I didn’t mean for her to hear me,” Ron protested, shifting nervously on the balls of his feet.

“But she did, Ron. I think you really hurt her.”

“So what,” the redhead muttered, “it’s her fault for being a know-it-all bookworm.”

Harry looked Ron straight in the eyes. “I like books. I spend almost as much time in the library as Hermione does. I figured out the charm too. If I tried to help you and you got frustrated with me would I also be a know-it-all bookworm?”

“What? No. Why would – ”

“Before I met you I didn’t have any friends either,” Harry said quietly. “I did have a lot of bullies, though. The ones who said nasty things about me were just as bad as the ones who chased and hit me. A bully is a bully. And it’s never okay.”

Ron ducked his head. After a moment he said, “I’m still mad at her for being so high and mighty, but I guess she really was trying to be nice in her own weird way. We should go find her so I can say I’m sorry.”

They looked for Hermione for a long time before they had to run to class, but they couldn’t find her anywhere.

\--

**Troll**

Hermione had not reappeared when it came time for the Halloween feast. She was still not there when Professor Quirrell ran into the room shouting about a troll.

“Hermione doesn’t know about the troll,” Harry said, feeling sick. And no one knew she was missing.

Ron groaned. “This is all my fault. We’ve got to find her. Quick, before Percy sees us.”

They found the troll quickly enough. Getting Hermione _away_ from the troll was another matter entirely.

Ron being the steadfast Gryffindor that he was did not forget his decision to apologize in the middle of a trying to fight off a ten foot mountain troll. This manifested as the redhead yelling “I’m sorry!” at the top of his lungs while chucking a metal pipe at the troll lumbering about the girl’s bathroom.

The troll paid no mind, but the non sequitur had the wonderful effect of knocking Hermione out of her daze of fear. Of course, Harry still couldn’t make her run.

“What?” Hermione shouted.

“I’m really, really, really sorry,” Ron shouted back.

The troll seemed very confused by all the noise reverberating around the bathroom. Finally it settled its beady eyes on Ron and began to charge.

Harry through himself at the troll and managed to wrap his arms around the thing’s neck. It occurred to him moments after he made the leap that this would be a lot more gallant and a lot less stupid if he was a giant metal suit of armor and not an undersized little boy made of breakable flesh and bone. At least he’d managed to get his wand up the thing’s nose. It wasn’t exactly a perfect plan, but his brother had come up with less elegant solutions before. All that mattered was finding a weak spot.

Then Ron dropped the troll’s own club on its head and it was over.

Harry got up from his perch on the monster and found that he was shaking.

“You have no idea how sorry I am about earlier,” Ron muttered to Hermione, his face pale and slightly green.

“No, I think I do,” Hermione said back, staring with wide eyes at the unconscious troll.

“Really though, I’m…”

“Shut up, Ron,” Hermione said.

Then the teachers barged into the bathroom. Too little, too late. Hermione proved herself to be insanely fast on her feet. Harry knew he’d never be able to lie that well.

When all was said and done, they somehow managed not to get expelled or lose a hundred house points.

But more importantly, from that night onward Hermione Granger was their friend.

\--

**Key**

After many nights of lost sleep Harry finally found the key to decoding the _Golden Soul: Transcending the Bonds of the Physical_. The biggest barrier had been the antiquated terms and sheer impenetrability coded text which rambled on and on about religion, god, something called kabbalah and the afterlife for pages on end.

Hermione, once she got him to spill about his so-called “Independent Study”, really helped turn the tide. Not studying alone was, in and of itself, amazing, but she truly was brilliant.

With the key in hand he could finally get his first proper look at alchemy.

He almost cried when he saw the notes on rudimentary transmutation circles. Circles that had actually _worked_ , even if they’d been abandoned by the researcher as being too inefficient. Switching to using cauldrons to contain the reaction and heat to supply the energy had simplified the science a great deal. But it had also effectively cut out most possible uses for alchemy besides purifying substances and attempting to make the Philosopher’s Stone.

Harry didn’t have much interest in the Potions-based alchemy the research had so favored. Hermione poured over those notes in fascination while Harry turned his attention to the circles.

He soon realized why his own attempts at transmuting hadn’t worked. The laws of geometry did not differ between reality and his dreams, but alchemy did. The equations and shapes needed to make a circle work were slightly, but crucially different in the real world. And most importantly, alchemy in this world was powered by magic.

Harry spent several days rewriting well known calculations and altering familiar designs until finally, impossibly, he got one to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning Continued: In the section titled "Transmutation" Harry has an adverse reaction to Professor McGonagall turning her desk into a pig and then back into a desk. He has a flashback to what happened to Nina and runs out of the classroom. He finds a place to hide and have his panic attack/flashback in peace near a suit of armor in an abandoned corridor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Tea**

“You named the chimera _Fluffy_?” Harry asked incredulously. He liked Hagrid. The very large man was the first friend Harry had made outside the world of his dreams. He had even given Harry his first ever birthday present in the real world, a snowy owl that Harry had named Kemi. Harry had not realized that his friend was crazy.

“He’s a cerberus,” Hagrid corrected. “Gogeous creature. Bought him off a Greek chappie I met in a pub last year – I lent him to guard the – ”

“Yes?” Harry, Ron and Hermione encouraged brightly.

“I can’t say. Don’t ask me anything,” Hagrid said sternly.

“But whatever it is, Snape is trying to steal it,” Harry pointed out. “We have to stop him.”

Hagrid refused to believe that Snape might be after whatever Fluffy was guarding. He also firmly denied that Snape had been trying to jinx Harry off his broom, despite all proof to the contrary. Even Hermione was convinced of the Potions Master’s treachery.

“That’s quite enough!” Hagrid finally exclaimed. “You three best listen to me. You’re mucking about in things that have nothing to do with you. It’s a dangerous business and you’d best be forgetting the entire thing, it’s just between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel – ”

“Flamel? Who’s that? How is he involved in this?” Hermione asked.

Hagrid buried his face in his and refused to say anything else.

Harry hardly noticed. His hand reached down to touch the small Flamel he had sewn into an unobtrusive part of his robes.

He still didn’t know what the chi – cerberus was guarding, but whatever it was involved alchemy. And, given the differences between his dreams and reality that meant –

He tried very hard not to jump to conclusions. He didn’t quite succeed.

\--

**Rebellion**

Just before Christmas break, Professor McGonagall assigned her first years their first work on transfiguring inanimate objects into animate objects.

Harry read the required reading. He wrote the required essay. But when the time came to actually do the transfiguration, he balked.

He wouldn’t do it.

Professor McGonagall explained over and over again that the beetles created from the buttons were not actually alive and were not truly harmed when they were transfigured back into buttons. Hermione offered helpful hints. Ron expressed confusion over Harry’s stubbornness on the matter.

Still Harry refused. He had finally gotten to the point where he could sit in the Transfiguration classroom and even look at Professor McGonagall without having a panic attack. But he would _never_ transmute – transfigure living things.

Professor McGonagall gave him a detention.

She gave him many detentions.

By the end of the year she gave up and simply gave Harry zeros on practicals that involved transfiguring any kind of living being.

\--

**Christmas**

“I got presents,” Harry said incredulously as he stared at the small pile of presents at the foot of his bed.

Ron gave Harry an odd look, but Harry just smiled widely and wiped away the dampness in his eyes. He’d never gotten proper Christmas presents before. Not even in his dreams because no one celebrated Christmas in Amestris.

There were presents from Hagrid, Ron, Hermione, Ron’s Mum and even something from Draco Malfoy. Harry almost missed the letter containing the Dursley’s “present” and gladly donated the fifty pence piece to Ron who was fascinated by muggle money.

Harry pulled on the emerald green Weasley sweater with a smile. He didn’t understand why Ron was so embarrassed about being a gift made with such obvious love.

“Your mum is amazing,” Harry said as he turned to his final present.

Ron forgot to deny Harry’s claim as a fluid, silvery grey material slipped from Harry’s hands to the floor.

“That’s an Invisibility Cloak,” Ron said in an awed voice.

And so it was. The Cloak came with an unsigned note claiming that the Cloak had once belonged to Harry’s father.

Harry immediately thought of absence and vague memories of looking at a man’s back as he walked away. Then he remembered that the note must be referring to his real father, the one who had fought and died rather than abandon him.

Harry hugged the cloak to his chest and smiled faintly.

\--

**Erised**

Harry stepped in front of the mirror.

His heart skipped a beat.

He whirled around, but there was no one behind him. He leaned around to look behind the mirror itself, but there was only blank wall. He turned to look back at the mirror.

The image hadn’t changed.

There in front of him stood two young men arm in arm. They had golden hair and golden eyes. Both were smiling and they were completely, blessedly whole.

“Brother?” he whispered.

The young men in the mirror just kept smiling as though he hadn’t spoken at all.

Harry managed to drag his eyes away from the center of the mirror long enough to glimpse a blond haired girl and a tiny old woman standing in the distance in front of a familiar house. But his eyes were drawn inexorably back to the center of the mirror.

His heart was beating very fast. Did this mirror tell the future? Did it tell the truth? Was the world of Harry’s dreams real?

…Would he and his brother really be able to get their original bodies back?

Harry didn’t know how long he stood there with his nose pressed right up against the glass. He reluctantly left when the room began to fill with grey pre-dawn light, but he would back. Nothing could keep him from this mirror.

\-- 

**Mirror**

Ron couldn’t see what Harry saw in the mirror, he saw something else entirely. He saw himself in the glass, standing alone, tall, proud and successful. When Ron asked what Harry had seen Harry found himself unable to reply.

Harry had hoped to show Ron, had hoped that he would be able to finally tell someone about his dreams without seeming crazy.

Realizing that he was as bereft of proof and support as ever was almost too much to bear.

\--

**Desire***

Harry went back to see the mirror again for a third time despite Ron’s warnings.

How could Ron possibly understand the importance of what the mirror held for Harry? Ron had everything. A family that loved him, parents who were alive, brothers that were not just dreams. Harry didn’t have any of that.

But the mirror could give him that.

Harry sat in front of the mirror and smiled at the smiling faces of the two brothers in the mirror. He would sit there all night with them and the next night and the next. He never needed to be alone again.

“Back again, Harry?”

Harry whirled around. There, sitting on one of the desks shoved up against the wall of the abandoned classroom was Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

“S-sorry, sir. I didn’t see you there.” Harry stumbled over the words.

“The wonders of invisibility,” the old man said brightly, “are such that we become so secure that we tend to forget to use our eyes. A danger inherent in all power, really.”

Harry stared at the Headmaster and said nothing. He found himself wishing the man would leave so he could spend more time with his family.

Dumbledore was not deterred by Harry’s silence. “I see you have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised. Have you discovered yet what it does?”

“It – it shows me…my, my family. Whole and together,” Harry said finally. “But…Ron saw just himself.”

“Yes, he saw himself as Head Boy, finally free of the shadows of his brothers.”

Harry stared. “How did you – ”

The old man simply smiled and then he told Harry what the mirror did.

“It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts… However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.”

It – it wasn’t real. None of it. All there, just out of reach and it wasn’t even –

Harry stood still as a statue while his hope shattered like so much glass on the floor around him.

Oblivious, Dumbledore continued to speak. “The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow…I ask you not to go looking for it again,”

Not the future. Not his brother. Just a shadow. A dream of an already impossible dream.

A hand fell heavy on Harry’s shoulder. Harry blinked and looked up into the Headmaster’s eyes. “It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that,Harry, _”_ **the old man said solemnly.

Harry nodded as though he understood, and he did. But despite Dumbledore’s words, Harry went back to empty classroom the next night.

The mirror was gone.

Harry sat down on the floor and wept into his hands.

\--

**Reality**

Harry wandered around in a daze for days after that. Ron, and Hermione when she returned from break, both tried to tell him to forget about the mirror. It was easy enough for them to say, they had no way of understanding why what he had seen had been so important. And he had no way of telling them without seeming truly crazy.

Harry wanted to scream.

Ironically it was Neville who knocked him back down to earth when the poor boy stumbled into Gryffindor’s Common Room under the influence of a Leg-Locker Curse.

“Who did this to you?” Harry asked once Hermione had freed Neville.

“Malfoy,” the boy admitted reluctantly.

Harry frowned at this. He had thought he’d managed to talk some sense into Malfoy. He’d go find him and see what was wrong. He handed his last chocolate frog to Neville with an encouraging smile and left Hermione and Ron to give the poor kid a pep talk.

For the first time since he had seen the mirror, Harry had both feet on the ground.

This was his reality and he would make the best of it.

\--

**Flamel**

When Harry came back from a rather loud, but ultimately surprisingly pleasant conversation with Malfoy, he found Ron and Hermione crowded around an enormous tome.

“Harry! Where have you been?” demanded Hermione.

“We’ve found him!” Ron said. “It was in the card from the frog you gave Neville. Lucky thing he wanted to give it to you for helping to cheer you up.”

“Found who?” Harry asked.

“Flamel,” Hermione whispered excitedly. “Dumbledore’s card references him. But that’s not what important. Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Sorcerer’s Stone! Though it’s been called loads of other names over the years, including – ”

“The Philosopher’s Stone,” Harry said quietly. The unformed suspicions he’d been doing his best to ignore since that fateful tea at Hagrid’s solidified. “That means…”

“That’s what Fluffy is guarding,” Hermione finished with a triumphant grin.

The Stone…the Stone was here. In the school where Harry lived and learned. He hadn’t even realized that the thing he and his brother had been searching for was right beneath his nose and had been _all year._

The empty promises of the Mirror of Erised suddenly meant nothing in the face of the real thing, the true key to getting their original bodies back.

And maybe…just maybe…getting the Stone in reality would have some effect on the world of his dream…

Maybe his dreams could be more than just dreams…

\--

**Experiments**

Harry threw himself into the study of alchemy.

He used his father’s Cloak to sneak more books out of the Restricted Section, but beyond the initial key he had already gotten, the books themselves didn’t help much. Instead he focused on recreating as many of the transmutation circles he knew from his dreams into circles that would work in reality.

Hermione and Ron were baffled by his obsession.

“Wouldn’t it be better to focus on battle magic, if you think you’re going to have to defend the Stone?” Hermione asked. 

“These squiggly lines don’t seem like the best strategy,” Ron agreed.

Harry could not fault Ron for not seeing the point of such an academic discipline. He also suspected that a lot of Hermione’s disregard came from the fact that she had yet to activate a circle herself. She was farther along than could reasonably be expected for someone who had only studied the art for a few months, but she was discouraged by Harry’s immediate successes.

For the hundredth time Harry considered telling her and Ron about the world in his dreams. But he held back. He didn’t want to lose them because they thought he was a crazy freak.

Instead Harry pulled out one of pieces of chalk that he now carried everywhere he went and quickly drew a circle on the floor the abandoned classroom they were working in and activated it.

Three stone spikes shot out of the ground.

Hermione and Ron stared.

Harry grinned at their shock. Before this he’d only ever tried small transmutations. “I don’t want to become overly reliant on my wand. No one will expect this,” he explained as returned the stone back to its original shape.

\--

**Compromise**

Everyone stared when Harry sat down at Draco Malfoy’s usual table during the first Potions class of the term.

Harry had not anticipated how much he would enjoy the look on Professor Snape’s face when he burst into the room at the start of the lesson.

His Gryffindor friends’ confusion and outrage was more expected, but Harry would talk to them about it after class. He cared deeply for his friends in Gryffindor, but he knew he had gotten too caught up in his own House.

Draco Malfoy wanted to be friends with Harry, and as Draco had pointed out after the time he cursed Neville, Harry had not really attempted to be a good friend in return to Draco.

“Friendship is a two-way street” the boy had said angrily.

“That’s true,” Harry had replied, feeling more than a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotten really caught up in some stuff. That’s no excuse though for ignoring the Law of Equivalency. How can I be a friend to you, Draco?”

“Well, you could act as though I don’t have Slytherin cooties.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Slytherin,” Harry had said. “I wanted the hat to put me there. I don’t know why it didn’t.”

Draco stared at him with wide eyes upon that revelation. “Okay, then, if you don’t care, then sit with me in Potions.”

The result was quite a lot of whispers from all of the Slytherin and Gryffindor first years as well as the suspicious ire of the Potions Master.

Harry ignored them all and focused on brewing his potion with Draco. It turned out that Draco’s good grades were not merely favoritism. The pale boy was very good at Potions.

From that day on Harry and Draco sat together for Potions and Draco stopped bullying Neville to get Harry’s attention.

\--

**Hair**

Shortly after the new term began, Hermione commented that Harry’s hair was getting quite long. She suggested that he let her try out a simply cutting charm.

Harry’s hair had always been about the same length. Aunt Petunia had tried to sheer his hair multiple times when he was younger but the hair had always grown back overnight, much to his Aunt’s horror and Harry’s delight. (All due to accidental magic he now realized.) However, her attacks on his head always increased when his hair got longer than just below his ears. They finally reached a tense truce where Harry could have his wild hair as long as he kept it properly short.

The result was that his hair didn’t actually grow much.

But once he took the time to notice, Harry couldn’t deny that his hair really was getting long. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a long time considering his reflection. Finally, he decided to turn down Hermione’s offer.

He was going to let his hair grow out.

When it got long enough, maybe he would braid it.

\--

**Dragon**

Hagrid had a pet dragon of all things.

Harry loved animals himself, but a dragon? _Really?_

Brother wouldn’t even let him have a _cat_.

Luckily, once Hagrid saw how fast “Norbert” was growing, he agreed that his baby would be better off in Ron’s brother’s capable hands.

Unfortunately a few days before the planned rendezvous at the top of Hogwarts’ tallest tower, Norbert bit Ron leaving him completely out of commission and trapped in the Hospital Wing with an infected bite.

The night of the exchange Draco Malfoy appeared in front of Hagrid’s hut just as Harry and Hermione were about to leave with Norbert’s crate.

“What do you want? How did you know we were here?” Hermione asked suspiciously.

“You lot are about as subtle as a herd of Hippogryphs,” Draco said. “Anyway, I noticed you were down a member of your happy little threesome and thought I’d offer myself as a substitute for this little adventure.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Friendship doesn’t work like that. You can’t stand in for Ron, but you could help us as our friend, Draco. Right, Hermione?”

“Well, if you’re actually going to help, then yes,” she agreed.

Draco smiled.

\--

**Detention**

They got caught.

Norbert was long gone, but that didn’t change the fact that they were caught.

Professor McGonagall took 50 points each and gave them all detentions.

Hermione was distraught. Draco still seemed inordinately pleased with himself. Harry was just thankful they hadn’t been caught with an illegal dragon.

None of them were happy to find out that they would be spending their detention hunting for the monster that was killing unicorns.

That was how Harry ended up in the middle of the Forbidden Forest facing down a bizarre cloaked figure with only Hermione and Hagrid’s Dog at his side.

That monster had hurt that poor, beautiful unicorn. Not just that one, Harry knew, but others as well. It had to stop.

Harry grabbed a fallen branch and charged the cloaked figure. He rammed the branch into the figure, knocking the figure back from the unicorn. He moved to hit his opponent again, but the figure looked up then.

A horrible pain seared through Harry’s scar. Harry staggered back from the figure and the unicorn. In the distance he heard Hermione screaming and the sound of hoof beats.

When the pain passed, the figure was gone and a young centaur was standing beside him. Harry was less shocked by his second meeting with a centaur, but he couldn’t help but be reminded once again of Nina. He concentrated very hard on not showing how disturbed he was. He didn’t want to be impolite.

It turned out that this was a good stance since he suddenly found himself amidst a centaur conflict over how to deal or not deal with whoever it was that was killing the unicorns in the forest.

And then he learned just who was after the Stone.

\--

**Prize**

In the mirror Harry saw himself and his brother holding the blood red Stone and preparing to do the transmutation that would return their original bodies. The sight was like a punch to the gut. He wanted the Stone. He wanted it more than anything. The thing he and his brother had tirelessly searched for. And now it was so close he could almost taste it. The Stone had to be here somewhere and yet it remained just out of reach.

“I see myself holding the Stone,” Harry said, his frustration obvious. “But I have no idea where it is or how to get it.”

“Get out of the way,” Quirrell, who had been favoring his left shoulder since their meeting in the Forbidden Forest, snarled and pushed Harry aside.

Harry watched his Professor peer anxiously into the mirror. He couldn’t let Quirrell and Voldemort get the Stone. Even…even if it meant he wouldn’t get it either. He had to stop them.

Pulling out a piece of chalk, Harry knelt and began to draw.

“The boy...watch the boy,” the high voice spoke from Quirrell’s body.

But it was too late.

Harry activated the transmutation circle.

\--

**Confrontation**

Stone spikes shot up from the floor, nearly impaling Quirrell where he stood. Somehow, Quirrell managed to stumble out of the way, knocking the Mirror of Erised to the floor. Harry didn’t hear the sound of glass breaking. He hoped the Stone would be okay.

Before Harry could draw another circle, Quirrell was on him and a thin high voice was shrieking “KILL HIM! KILL HIM!”

Harry dropped the chalk and slapped away Quirrell’s reaching hand. The moment he touched the other man’s skin, a horrible pain pierced Harry’s scar. His head was on fire. Harry leapt to his feet and blindly fell into a defensive stance. He needed to stay strong. Brother had been in worse pain and fought worse battles; Harry would not let this pain get between him and the Philosopher’s Stone.

Quirrell was not getting ready to charge him, though.

The man was standing there, staring at his which were blistering away before his eyes.

“You fool!” hissed Voldemort’s voice. “Get him. Kill him like his dirty parents.”

“But my hands!” Quirrell cried, but even as he spoke the man threw himself at Harry and wrapped his hands around Harry’s throat.

Pain coursed through Harry’s scar, blinding and deafening at once. Yet Quirrell was screaming in agony.

“It burns, Master!”

“Then kill him! Your wand, fool! KILL HIM!”

Quirrell released Harry’s neck. Harry did the only thing he could; he reached up and grabbed Quirrell’s face.

Quirrell screamed and tried to pull away, but Harry held on. His head was on fire, but he would not let go. He would not let Voldemort get the Stone. He wouldn’t. He’d die first.

That was his last thought as the world slipped into blackness.

\--

**Loss****

“The Stone, where’s the Stone?” Harry demanded of the smiling face of the Headmaster.

“Calm yourself, there is nothing to fear,” Dumbledore said serenely.

Harry nearly snarled. If his body didn’t feel like so heavy, he would have launched himself at the old man in a fit worthy of his brother. “There’s everything to fear. Where is it?”

“Professor Quirrell did not manage to take the stone,” Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his eyes fading somewhat. “It was still safely where I had left it in the Mirror of Erised, thanks to your bravery, though I did fear I had arrived too late to save you.”

Harry would not be distracted. “How do you get the Stone out of the Mirror? I could see it, but I couldn’t get it.”

If anything, Dumbledore’s eyes dimmed a bit more. “Ah, that. One of my more brilliant ideas. Only one who wanted to _find_ the stone – find it, but not use it – would be able to get it, otherwise they’d just see themselves making gold or drinking the Elixir of Life. I take it that you wanted the Stone, Harry.”

“Of course I do,” Harry said.

“The lure of money and eternal life is quite powerful, but you should know that it will not bring you happiness. In fact – ” 

“There are plenty of reasons not to trans- transfigure gold,” Harry interrupted. “And as for immortality, who could honestly wish for such a fate? To live on forever while everyone you love dies? We just want – ” With a great deal of will, Harry cut himself off. No matter upset he was now, he wouldn’t let anyone, let alone this man know about his dreams.

“We?” Dumbledore inquired.

“The Stone can be used as an Alchemic amplifier,” Harry said firmly. “I have a scientific interest in it for that reason.”

“Was that why you _borrowed_ all those books from the Restricted Section?”

Harry bit down on the urge to say “I put them back, didn’t I?” Rule number one of getting away with things was “Don’t admit to anything.” It had kept Brother out of trouble more often than not.

“Where is the Stone, sir? _Please_. I just want to see it.” Harry was not ashamed to admit that he begging.

For this, he would beg.

“I’m afraid the Stone has been destroyed.”

_“What?”_

“Nicholas and I had a little chat, and agreed it’s all for the best.”

“You – you destroyed it.” Harry said incredulously.

The one thing that could have gotten their original bodies back, that could have connected him to his other life and maybe…maybe even send him to the world of his dreams…It was gone.

This was a thousand times worse than losing the intangible possibilities presented by the Mirror of Erised.

Harry wanted to scream.

“It seems that this has been a great shock to you,” Dumbledore said, his voice unreadable. “I should let you rest.”

“Wait,” Harry said as Dumbledore got up to leave. “Quirrell. What happened to him? Will he go to jail?” At least that had to have gone right.

“Quirrell is dead,” Dumbledore said gravely.

“A-and Voldemort?”

“He is out there, somewhere. Not being truly alive, he cannot die. He left Quirrell to die.”

Harry had killed Quirrell. The realization cut like a knife through his grief over the Stone.

He let Dumbledore leave without another word.

\--

**Murderer**

Harry was very quiet when Madam Pomfrey finally Ron and Hermione into the room.

“You’re alright! We were so worried. Dumbledore said – ” Hermione dashed in and threw her arms around Harry. He couldn’t help but lean instinctively into the hug.

“Everyone’s talking,” Ron said, coming to sit by the bed. “What happened?”

Hermione released Harry and settled herself on the edge of the bed.

“It was Quirrell, not Snape,” Harry said dully. “Voldemort was hitchhiking in his body. The Stone was in the Mirror of Erised. Neither of us could get at it. We fought. I passed out. Dumbledore destroyed the Stone.”

“Oh,” Ron said quietly, his eyes wide.

“It’s – it’s for the best, I suppose?” Hermione smiled tentatively. “Now Voldemort can’t get it.”

“Quirrell is dead,” Harry said instead of responding. “For some reason he couldn’t touch me. I burned him. I held onto his face until I couldn’t anymore. I killed him.”

“Mate…”

“Harry…”

Harry ducked his head and gripped the bed sheets of his hospital bed tightly in his hands. “I’m a murderer.”

“It was self-defense, not murder,” Hermione said immediately.

“The guy was sharing a body with V-v You-Know-Who. He would have killed you in a moment,” Ron agreed.

“I could have stopped it. I could – I could have done _something._ He didn’t have to _die._ It doesn’t matter if I didn’t mean it, that it was an accident. Haven’t enough people died yet?” He could no longer hold back the tears. One drop rolled down his face. Then another. Soon he was sobbing uncontrollably.

He felt Hermione wrap her arms around him. A moment later, the bed dipped and Ron was hugging him from the other side.

They whispered soothing words for a while, but eventually stopped talking and just held him. It was nice. Harry wasn’t sure, but he thought this might be the first time anyone had held him like this outside of his dreams. And even in his dreams, it was hard for Ed to hug a suit of armor even though he determinedly did so anyway.

Thinking of his brother helped.

He thought then of Majhal. The man who had, in his madness, failed to see his true love returned to him, and had attempted to kill Harry, his brother, Claus and the true Karin. Majhal had died that night, inadvertently by Ed’s hand. It had been an accident. But Harry knew his brother had blamed himself and still struggled under the burden of the responsibility.

Harry was a murderer. But so was his brother. His brother had not folded under the weight of yet another sin. Harry would not either.

He would grieve for Quirrell and for himself and then he would get up and walk.

He had two good legs. He would get up and use them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Several quotes from this section, mostly a few chunks of Dumbledore’s dialogue, are taken directly from The Mirror of Erised chapter of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.
> 
> ** Several quotes from this section, mostly a few chunks of Dumbledore’s dialogue, are taken directly from The Man with Two Faces chapter of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Silence**

Summer at the Dursley’s was not quite as miserable as Harry had expected. It helped that his relatives had the mistaken impression that Harry could do awful and “unnatural” things to them if they did anything to make him upset. Harry encouraged this belief. He made a point of carrying his wand around and drawing alchemical circles wherever he could (though he was careful not to activate them lest someone count those as doing magic over the break). Just because he couldn’t actually use magic over the summer, didn’t mean his relatives had to know that.

Their terror was useful, if a bit tedious and mildly depressing. At the very least, Harry’s chore list was more reasonable than it had ever been and he was actually eating three meals a day.

The only downside was the loneliness. His relatives were perfecting the art of ignoring his existence and while he would typically be pleased at this state of affairs, he had heard absolutely nothing from his friends. Harry hadn’t gotten a single letter all summer despite the many letters he himself had sent. It hurt, but he tried to stay positive. Maybe the letters got lost…or maybe his friends were all too busy and had simply forgotten to respond? For weeks. After they had _promised_ to keep in touch.

Harry did his best to stay strong. At night, he buoyed himself with the dreams of his adventures with his brother. (And thought as little of his encounter with Quirrell and the loss of the Stone as he could.) During the day he studied. He finished his homework within the first week. Then he threw himself into his alchemy and his martial arts training. He had gotten horribly out of shape while he was at Hogwarts. He should have been in top form when he confronted Quirrell. Next time, Harry would be ready to put up a true fight.

Yes. Harry kept himself busy as he waited to hear from his friends.

\--

**Phone**

Three weeks into the awful radio silence from his friends, Harry resolved to get to find out what was going on.

If – if they were mad at him, he would talk to them and figure something out.

One day when the Dursleys were out on a family outing of some sort, Harry pulled out the slip of parchment Hermione had given him with her phone number on it and called her number on the house phone.

Someone answered on the third ring.

“Granger Residence,” a male voice answered promptly. Harry supposed it was Hermione’s father.

“Is Hermione there?”

“May I ask who is calling?”

“Ah…it’s Harry. Harry Potter. I’m a friend of Hermione’s. From school.”

“…I wasn’t aware that witch- er – your sort used technology.”

“I was raised by mu – er, normal folk,” Harry explained. Though to be fair, the Dursleys could hardly be considered “normal” and Harry didn’t actually have a lot of experience with phones. Who would he have talked to on the phone before he went to Hogwarts?

“Right,” Hermione’s father said awkwardly.

“Is Hermione home?” Harry asked after a short silence.

“Oh. Right. Yes, of course. I’ll get her.” Harry heard a muffled call of “Hermione, one of your friends is on the phone!”

Moments later, Hermione’s voice filtered down the line. She sounded out of breath, like she’d been running. “Harry!” she cried. “Are you alright?”

“How did you know it was me?” Harry asked.

“As if Ron could figure out what to do with a phone.”

“Good point. And I’m fine. I was actually worried about you. I’ve sent you guys loads of letters, but I haven’t heard from anyone since I got back from school.”

Hermione was quiet for a moment. “Harry…we’ve been writing you every day. We were worried your relatives had done something awful to you. Ron and his brothers were actually talking about mounting a rescue mission.”

“Huh, well, the Dursleys have been decent enough, actually, in that they’re working very hard to pretend I don’t exist.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing, but _something_ is clearly going on. Someone or something is interfering with your mail.”

Harry had thought much more than he’d like to admit about the possible reasons for his abandonment. He had not expected this at all. “I thought you guys might have forgotten me,” he said quietly.

“Harry,” his friend said gently, “before I met you and Ron I had never had friends before. I will never abandon you. And neither will Ron. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, his voice rough.

“It’s what friends are for,” Hermione said firmly. “And don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

\--

**Long**

One of the few conflicts that arose between Harry and his relatives was the state of his incredibly shaggy hair. Aunt Petunia cornered him one afternoon with a set of kitchen shears and lopped off everything she could.

As had happened before, Harry’s hair grew back over night, only this time; it came back in even longer.

Horrified, Aunt Petunia threw up her hands in defeat and forbid Harry from working in her garden where people might see him and his disreputable hair and associate him with her perfect home. Although Harry enjoyed gardening he was happy to be divested of another chore.

By the end of the summer, his hair was long enough to fit into a low pony tail. It was perfect.

\--

**Dobby***

“Harry Potter will have his letters, sir, if he gives Dobby his word that he will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, sir, this is a danger you must not face! Say you won’t go back, sir!” Dobby pleaded.

Harry considered the strange little creature before him. Dobby clearly meant well. The poor thing thought he was doing the right thing at great cost to himself if the constant self-punishment was anything to go by.

But whatever the creature’s intentions, Harry had no intention of actually heeding his warnings. Hogwarts was the closest thing he had to a home in the real world and Harry would happily risk death to return there. Dobby clearly could not understand that, though since he seemed dead set on protecting Harry at any cost.

Harry did not want to think how Dobby would endeavor to keep Harry away from his school and friends. So he did what he had to do.

“Okay, Dobby. I understand. Hogwarts isn’t safe for me,” he said with a sad, defeated smile.

The house-elf’s wide eyes overflowed with tears of happiness. “Oh thank you, Harry Potter, sir. Thank you!” 

Then Harry was left alone in his room with his stack of stolen mail and no intention of keeping his implied promise.

His brother would be proud, he was sure.

\--

**Mail**

Harry spent the rest of his birthday going through his pilfered mail. Hermione and Ron had indeed written him nearly every day. And he had four increasingly pissy letters from Draco Malfoy who felt horribly ignored. There was one incredibly shy letter from Neville and even a short scribble from Hagrid.

By the end of the night Harry’s hand was horribly cramped but he had responded to all of his letters. In the post scripts in his letters to Ron and Hermione he asked them if he could stay with them for the rest of the summer.

\--

**Warmth****

Harry spent a pleasant week sleeping on the Granger’s couch before Ron and his Mum came and brought Harry to a place that was even more magical than Hogwarts.

Harry was enchanted by the Burrow. It was, quite simply, a home. Well-lived in and well-loved. Harry was reminded of the home of his dreams. The home he and his brother had burned down. He stopped this thoughts before they could go very far and soaked in the wonderful feeling of being in such a place. 

Ron seemed strangely embarrassed as he showed Harry around.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

“I, um. What do you think? I know it’s not much, but – ”

“I love it,” Harry said. “This is the best house I’ve ever been in. And your family is amazing too. I wish I – ” he cut himself off abruptly.

Ron didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy blushing at Harry’s praise.

\--

**Kitten**

After the chaos that was their trip to Diagon Alley, Harry sat in Ron’s room at the burrow placidly petting the tiny kitten he had rescued from Knockturn Alley.

“You know,” Ron said with a faint frown, “you could have just given her to a shelter. If you really wanted a cat they have plenty in the Magical Menagerie.”

What Ron really meant was that Harry could afford a proper pet rather than a scraggly stray.

Harry smiled and thought of all the strays he’d never been able to save in his dreams because he and his brother didn’t have a proper home to share with them. “Those other animals are deserving of loving homes too, but they have a better chance in that pet shop. This poor kitty was completely alone in the world. I know how that feels. I think it was fate that we found each other,” Harry explained.

“So what are you going to name her?” Ginny asked shyly from the doorway of Ron’s room.

Ron scowled at the intrusion, but Harry just grinned. He’d known the moment he saw the kitten what he would name her.

“Amestris,” he said. “Her name is Amestris.”

\--

**Barrier**

The barrier between platforms nine and ten was sealed. They couldn’t get through.

“We’re going to miss the train,” Harry said anxiously.

“I don’t understand how this is possible,” Ron said.

“It’s bizarre. It’s like…” Harry trailed off, eyes widening.

“What?”

“It’s as strange as someone preventing a wizard from getting his mail.”

“You mean that – ”

“Sh!” Harry glanced around suspiciously. “He doesn’t want me to go back to Hogwarts. I’d hoped my word would be enough, but it looks like that might not be the case.”

“You think he’d be capable of this?” Ron said skeptically.

“If it is him…he was desperate to keep me away. I don’t want to know what he’d be willing to try.” Harry frowned. “Do, do you think your parents are okay? What if they can’t back through to this side?”

“Even if the barrier is sealed, they can still apparate,” Ron assured him.

“Can a…you know, interefere with that?”

Ron paled. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I won’t let him keep me away from Hogwarts, but what are we going to do? What can we do?” At that moment Harry glanced around and realized just how much unwanted attention he and Ron were attracting. He sighed. “We should go wait by the car until this – ”

“Harry, that’s brilliant!”

“What?”

“The car! We can fly the car to Hogwarts!”

\--

**Soar**

In retrospect, flying a car to school was not their brightest idea. However, while they did get into trouble for being seen, they had actually gotten to school despite Dobby’s attempts at sabotage.

And, well, flying in any form was pretty damn amazing. A _flying car_ was something entirely out of either of Harry’s worlds.

Harry wished he could tell his brother about it.

\--

**Idiocy**

Gilderoy Lockhart the new DADA professor was very quickly getting on Harry’s last nerve. Wasn’t Harry in the limelight enough without that utter moron shining spotlights on him and refusing to leave him alone? He never even had enough time to get a word in edge-wise. It was infuriating. After the incident with the Cornish pixies, Harry decided he’d had enough.

A quick word with Fred and George gained him two very willing co-conspirators.

And made Professor Lockhart’s life miserable.

\--

**Seeker**

Draco Malfoy was the new Slytherin Seeker. He was very pleased with himself.

All of the Gryffindors muttered about the Slytherin team’s new brooms bought by Draco’s father. But Harry made a point to congratulate his friend who had been surprisingly distant since they’d gotten back to school. Harry hoped that the pale boy hadn’t been put off of their friendship because of his father’s fight with Mr. Weasley in Flourish and Blotts.

Draco blinked at surprise at Harry’s words. “Really?”

“Well of course. We’re friends, aren’t we? I look forward to playing against you. It should be fun.”

Slytherins and Gryffindors alike stared, slack jawed at the inter-House scene before them.

“Is he for real?” muttered one of the Slytherin Chasers.

“You have no idea,” Alicia Spinnet said across the House divide.

Harry just smiled.

\--

**Study**

Harry continued to study alchemy as he and his friends settled back into the pattern of school life. He was however much more vigilant about maintaining his physical training.

With a bit of badgering he even managed to convince Ron and Hermione to learn some basic katas and go on runs with him. Ron only agreed because exercising would give him a better chance of getting onto the Quidditch team in a few years. Hermione was won over by the idea that training the body could help train the mind.

Neither of them was a very good sparring partner yet, but it was nice not to train on his own.

Hermione was taking to alchemy quite well. She had finally managed to draw and activate her own circle near the end of last year. Now she had three solid circles and a lot of theory under her belt. Ron, on the other hand, had zero interest in alchemy. While Harry and Hermione studied alchemy, Ron tried to drill transfigurations and charms as best he could with his broken wand since that took much less effort than the massive amounts of studying required to do even the simplest alchemy.

All in all, Harry had no idea when he might meet Voldemort again, but Harry was certain that when that time came he would be ready.

\--

**Colin**

Once the Lockhart Problem was taken care of thanks to the Weasley twins’ unparalleled pranking skills, Harry only had to deal with one major annoyance.

He just hoped he could manage it without making the poor kid cry.

“Hey, Colin,” Harry said as pleasantly as he could.

“All right, Harry?” the boy greeted him with delight.

“Yeah…will you walk with me for a bit?”

Colin of course agreed. Harry led them to an out of the way corridor, enduring Colin’s chatter with as much patience as he could muster. Once they were there Harry turned to the boy and seriously, “Colin, I really appreciate how much you look up to me. But I think you’re missing out on the rest of the Wizarding World by focusing so much on me. I’m just one person, but there’s a lot more out there. And certainly there are much better things you could take pictures of. I’m a pretty uninteresting subject. I hate to see your skills go to waste on me. Did you know that there’s a Giant Squid in the lake? Or that the suits of armor move? I’d really love to see you capture those sights. You could even put them together in a book for other young Muggle-borns. I know I would have loved to have something like that when I came to Hogwarts last year.”

“Really? You would’ve?” Colin asked breathlessly.

“Yes. And I think you can pull it off. But it won’t be much of a book if I’m the only thing in it. You should try to capture all of Hogwarts.”

“I will! I will!” Colin said. “I can’t wait to show you the pictures I take!”

Harry ruffled the boy’s hair and smiled warmly.

After that Colin was far too busy taking pictures and making friends with kids in his year to hound Harry.

And best of all? Not a single tear.

\--

**Raven**

Two weeks before Halloween, Harry stumbled across three fourth year Ravenclaws who were in the process of stealing the belongings of a tiny blond-haired girl in Ravenclaw robes.

The largest of the bullies had snatched the girl’s bag and was holding it over her head.

The smallest bully, a black haired girl with a pinched face was standing with her arms crossed as she spoke cruelly to their victim, “Merlin, can’t you just be normal? You’re embarrassing the entire House.”

“I don’t think she’s the one embarrassing the House of Knowledge Seekers,” Harry said. All four Ravenclaws turned to look at him in surprise. “That would be you three. Picking on a first year is about as far from smart as you can get.”

“No one asked _you_ , Potter,” the smallest bully said.

“No one had to. I don’t like bullies.”

“Buzz off,” said the middle-sized bully who was a boy that was bit wide around the middle and had a mean smile.

“Yeah, or we’ll make you,” the largest bully, a girl who Harry suspected was the Ravenclaw’s Beater in training, sneered.

“I don’t want to fight – ” Harry began, but he was cut off by the biggest bully’s attempt to punch him in the face.

Harry dodged to the side before leaping forward and snatching the first year’s bag out of the large girl’s hand. He found himself standing beside the girl he was protecting but didn’t have much time to stop and think. He handed the little girl both her bag and his own before turning to grab hold of the middle-sized bully’s flying fist. He used the boy’s forward momentum to flip him over his own shoulder.

There was a loud cracking sound as the boy hit the ground. Harry realized with a grimace that he’d broken the bully’s arm.

He didn’t have time to worry about that, though. He turned to where the other two bullies were still standing and slipped into a fighting stance.

They were staring at him with wide eyes.

“Merlin’s Hairy Balls,” swore the larger girl in surprise.

“Hey, we’re sorry,” the smallest bully said quickly. “We had no idea you took this bullying thing so seriously. We’ll leave Luna alone.”

Harry frowned darkly at them both. “If I hear about you bothering _anyone_ , you’ll be sorry.”

The two bullies helped their friend to his feet and rushed off, presumably to the Hospital Wing.

Once they were out of sight Harry turned his attention to the first year that had been the focus of their viciousness.

He at once realized why she had been targeted. She gave off a very distinct air of oddness. That may have been due in part to the fact that she was wearing a string of small pinecones around her neck and had small red flowers hanging from her sleeves.

“Are you alright?” he asked her.

She blinked her wide eyes at him. “Are you all here?” she asked.

“For the most part,” Harry said wryly, thinking of his dreams.

“Just not all the time,” she noted astutely.

Harry tilted his head to the side, considering the strange girl. Did she - ? No. That wasn’t possible. He shook his head and the thought away. “Do people often steal your things?” he asked, carefully changing the subject.

“They’re not often so straightforward about it.” She fiddled with her necklace. “I fear that the Wrackspurts may have gotten to them. I had hoped to see one, but I think I lost my chance."

“Sorry about that.”

“There’s no need to apologize. They would likely have gotten me too,” she said.

Harry chuckled. “I’m Harry Potter.”

“I know.”

“And you?”

“I’m a little off. Strange. A bad Ravenclaw,” the girl said lightly.

“You seem like a pretty amazing Ravenclaw to me,” Harry disagreed.

She shook her head, but smiled at him. “I’m Luna Lovegood.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Luna,” Harry said.

Luna handed Harry his bag back and he walked her to class.

After that Luna’s Housemates mostly left her alone. Harry suspected she was lonely even though she was no longer being picked on. He made a point to invite her to have meals with Hermione, Ron and him. His friends found her weird, but nice enough.

In Potions, Malfoy joked that Harry was collecting misfits from all the Houses. Harry snarked back that he was just missing a Hufflepuff.

\--

**Writing*****                                                                                                                

The second time Harry heard the awful voice that was hunting for blood was just as he, Ron and Hermione were escaping from Nearly Headless Nick’s Deathday Party.

Harry followed the voice as best as he could, but when he found what was at the end of that last deserted passaged, he wished he’d minded his own business.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

And there. Mrs. Norris.

But then the corridor was filled with students and Professors and Harry could see how easy it would be to jump to conclusions.

At least Professor Dumbledore had enough sense to tell that petrifying a cat was far beyond Harry’s skill level.

\--

**Rumors**

The rumor that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin was persistent but so were the very loud voices of the naysayers.

Quite a few people held up Harry’s friendliness toward Malfoy as proof that Harry was a Slytherin in disguise who hated Muggle-borns and Squibs.

The fact that Harry was best friends with a Muggle-born and had a reputation for being nice to everyone even if he was a bit introverted held up surprisingly well to the sensationalist whispers.

Harry bore it all as best he could while he, Ron and Hermione began investigating what had actually happened to Mrs. Norris.

\--

**Suspicion**

“Oh, come on,” Ron said. “What House is famous for hating Muggle-borns and Squibs?”

“It’s just a reputation. They’re not all mini-Voldemorts,” Harry pointed out.

Hermione looked thoughtful. “Just because Draco is decent enough when he’s not being Malfoy-y, doesn’t mean that there isn’t another Slytherin who might want to do something this extreme.”

“Exactly,” Ron said. “But it’s not as though we’re chummy with all of them. How can we figure out who might be behind it?”

Harry still wasn’t convinced that a Slytherin was behind it in the first place. “We could just ask,” he said sarcastically.

“That’s it!” Hermione said brightly. “Why don’t you ask Draco?”

“Like he’s going to tell the truth,” Ron said. He put up with Draco Malfoy when he had to, but the bad blood between their families was not something he could easily forget.

Draco had seemed to get over what was bothering him at the beginning of the year, but Harry could tell that something was still off. “Okay, I’ll ask him. He’ll tell me if something’s up.” He hoped so anyway.

\--

**Stubborn**

Asking Draco was not as easy as it sounded.

Harry got the strangest feeling that his Slytherin friend was avoiding him as he tried to get a few moments alone with the other boy between classes.

Finally Harry managed to corner Draco after Potions.

“What do you want, Potter?” the pale boy demanded.

“I thought you were calling me Harry. It is my name,” Harry said.

Draco rolled his eyes. “I have to go to practice.”

“It can wait.”

“I thought you were above sabotaging the competition?”

Harry frowned. Draco was definitely upset about something. “Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets? Have you heard – ”

The little color in Draco’s face had drained away. Maybe Draco did know something.

“Leave it alone, Po- Harry,” Draco said. “I can’t – Look, keep your head down and keep an eye on Granger, okay?”

“What do you know?” Harry asked.

“I _can’t_.”

“Can’t what? Do you know who – ?”

Draco shook his head.

“So it isn’t a Slytherin?”

Draco bit his lip, shook his head again and walked away.

\--

**Bludger**

Harry had broken bones before. He had broken a lot of bones. He’d never had his bones removed before.

As they carried him from the field with one arm flopping around like a useless rubber glove he was reminded of carrying his brother’s too small bleeding body in the dark to Granny Pinako’s house. Was having your bones removed that different from losing the arm entirely? Would they have to amputate it?

No. Apparently in the real world it was possible to regrow bones from scratch. Ridiculous. Who needed a Philosopher’s Stone with that kind of power?

Regrowing the bones in his arm was a unique sensation. It hurt. Not like the pain in his scar when he was near Voldemort, but it was terrible all the same.

As he drifted in and out of sleep Harry found himself feverishly wondering if he was feeling even a fraction of the pain that his brother had endured during his automail surgery and again every time his automail limbs were reattached at the nerve endings.

This thought made him feel closer to his brother than he had in a while. He smiled a small satisfied smile and rode out the pain.

\--

**Protector******

“Why couldn’t Harry Potter listen?” whimpered Dobby. “Why did Harry Potter go back on his word even when he missed the train?”

Harry glowered at the sniveling creature that had been standing anxiously at Harry’s bedside when he’d awoken yet again. “It really was you.” Harry’s eyes widened in realization. “And the Bludger, that was you too. You tried to kill me!”

The House Elf looked mortified. “No, no, sir. Never kill. Dobby was protecting you! Dobby wanted you to be sent home, so Harry Potter can be safe now that history is repeating and the Chamber of Secrets has been opened once more – ”

Dobby grabbed the water jug from Harry’s bedside table and began beating himself with it. “Bad Dobby, very bad,” the creature berated himself.

“So the Chamber _is_ real,” Harry said, snatching the jug away from Dobby. “And this has happened before. Who, Dobby? Who opened it?”

But Dobby wouldn’t let another word slip.

And then Dobby was gone and Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey had arrived carrying what looked like a statue.

It was Colin Creevey.

\--

**Snake**

Harry wondered what Snape intended to accomplish in pitting Harry against Draco. Even if things had been a bit awkward between them since Harry tried to get Draco to talk about who the Heir of Slytherin might be, they were still friends.

They shot a few fairly harmless spells at each other that left Draco laughing and Harry dancing. While Lockhart tried to regain control of the room, Harry considered the possible benefits to inviting Draco to train with him and his friends. He would have to tell Draco about his alchemy, but the benefits of having another person to spar with were hard to ignore.

Then Snape told Draco to do something and Draco called out, “ _Serpensortia!_ ”

A large black snake shot out of Draco’s wand. It began slithering toward Harry.

Just as Snape was promising to get rid of the creature, Lockhart decided to help. The snake went flying and, clearly agitated, headed straight toward the closest person with its fangs ready to strike. The closest person just happened to be Justin Finch-Fletchley.

Harry did the only thing he could think of. “Leave him alone,” he shouted stupidly at the snake, as though he expected it to listen. Surprisingly it did. “Come here,” he said. And the snake turned and slithered to him, curling up submissively at him feet.

Harry looked up and expected to be met with surprise or perhaps gratefulness. Instead, Justin looked at him with fear and hatred. The boy ran.

Snape banished the snake, but he was clearly paying more attention to Harry than the snake. The entire room was filled with mutters.

As Ron and Hermione dragged him out of the room, Harry became aware that something was very, very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Some of Dobby’s dialogue is quoted directly from the chapter “Dobby’s Warning” in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.   
> ** Several quotes from this section are taken directly from the chapter “The Burrow” in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.   
> *** The writing on the wall is taken from the chapter “The Deathday Party” from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.   
> ****Some of Dobby and Harry’s dialogue is taken from the chapter “The Rogue Bludger” from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.


	5. Chapter 5

**Apology**

Harry was a Parseltongue. He could talk to snakes.

This was apparently a bad thing.

Harry was inordinately happy that he hadn’t transmuted the Flamel onto the back of his robes. He could only imagine what people would say about _that_.

He felt terrible about scaring Justin Finch-Fletchley. Whatever Harry’s intentions had been, Justin had been hurt and Harry didn’t want to hurt anyone.

His plans to apologize during Herbology were derailed by a blizzard of all things. He went to find Justin himself only to find out that apparently all of Hufflepuff was barricading their dormitory against “Dark Wizard Potter”.

They were going to be really embarrassed when they found out that Harry was an innocent bystander.

…Except that shortly after he left the Hufflepuff’s outpost in the library he came across Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick. Both petrified.

Harry realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach that no one would believe he was innocent now.

\--

**Heart**

Professor McGonagall took him to see Dumbledore.

But Dumbledore wasn’t there. The Sorting Hat _was_.

Before he could think better of it, he reached out, took hold of the hat and gingerly put it on his head.

“Still think I’m a bonded soul, Mr. Elric?” a small voice said in his ear.

“I don’t know what you are. But you’re certainly not a normal hat,” Harry said smartly.

“Merlin forbid,” the voice said. “Now, what is the matter?”

There was quite a lot bothering Harry at that moment. He’d initially put on the hat just for a chance to talk to the one person…thing to ever call him by his true name. And yet…

He did have a question.

“Why did you put me in Gryffindor? I chose Slytherin.”

“No you didn’t. You _thought_ about choosing Slytherin,” the hat said. “You didn’t make a choice. And besides, your very reasoning for picking Slytherin proved how unfit you were for the House of Salazar Slytherin.”

Harry was speechless.

“In the moment of decision you revealed yourself for the Gryffindor you are in your heart. Brave and self-sacrificing to a fault, that is who you are, young Mr. Elric.”

Anything Harry might have said to that was cut off by a horrible gagging noise from somewhere behind him.

Harry tugged the hat off his head and quickly set it back on its shelf. He turned around just in time to see an ugly half-dead bird burst into flames.

\--

**Secrets**

The bird wasn’t actually dead. It was a phoenix. An actual _phoenix_.

One of the most important alchemical symbols right there in the flesh…er, ashes.

Harry was so delighted by the sight that he almost forgot why he was in Dumbledore’s office to begin with. He remembered quickly enough, though when Dumbledore himself appeared. Luckily, the headmaster believed Harry wasn’t involved in this mess, but then the man put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and asked very seriously, “Is there anything you’d like to tell me, Harry? Anything at all?”

Harry thought of his strange ability to talk to snakes, of Draco’s odd behavior, and that horrible voice he kept hearing crying out for blood. He thought too about this man calmly tearing him away from the image of brother in the Mirror of Erised and then later just as calmly telling him about the destruction of the Philosopher’s Stone.

Harry kept his face neutral. “No, Sir,” he said. “There isn’t anything.”

Dumbledore looked at him with sad eyes.

\--

**Fear**

For four days after finding Justin and Nearly Headless Nick petrified in the halls, Harry had horrible nightmares.

It didn’t help that in the few proper dreams he managed to have, his brother had been kidnapped by a rogue military officer who wanted him to make chimeras and rescue was proving a lot more difficult than anyone in the dream world anticipated.

Dark circles appeared under Harry’s eyes and he was couldn’t hide how cranky and jumpy he was.

Seamus Finnigan kept shooting Harry nervous glances and word of Harry’s nightmares was common knowledge by the second day. There were whispers that he Harry’s restless sleeping was a sign of a guilty conscious.

Fred and George, wonderful friends that they were, still managed to joke about Harry’s status as apparent Heir Apparent of Slytherin. Luna patted him on the arm and said something completely baffling about a Rotfang Conspiracy. Ron and Hermione just pushed Harry harder to talk to Draco. When Hermione threatened to go through with their back-up plan of using Polyjuice to sneak into the Slytherin Common Room and find out the truth from the snake’s mouth itself, Harry knew he had to do something.

\--

**Tradition**

“We need to talk,” Harry said firmly when he caught up to Draco outside Charms.

“Bugger off, Potter,” said Blaise Zabini. “We’re not as stupid as the Hufflepuffs. You’re no Heir of Slytherin.”

“I’m glad Slytherin wit hasn’t abandoned your House in this time of terror. Besides, I was talking to Draco.”

Draco’s face only revealed a split second of indecision before he broke away from the other Slytherins.

“Dray – ” Pansy Parkinson made to follow Draco.

The pale boy rolled his eyes at Harry and waved her away. “I’m a big boy Pansy. I can handle a lone Gryffindor by myself.”

She glanced back and forth between them nervously before nodding decisively. The Slytherin Second Years marched away as one. They looked casual enough, but Harry could see that it was a show. The Slytherins hadn’t walked so close together last year.

“I didn’t realize the other Houses were lashing out at you guys over this,” Harry said as he and Draco walked in the opposite direction of their year mates.

Draco snorted. “Your hero complex is showing. Anyway, it’s been better since you became suspect number one. If you get convicted and sent to Azkaban, we should be just fine.”

Harry wondered what Azkaban was, but decided to ask Ron about it later. He needed to focus. “Ha, ha. You don’t believe a word of that drivel, do you?”

No reply.

Harry turned to look at Draco. “You’ve been acting really weird this year. Is everything okay?”

“I already told you, Po – Harry. I _can’t_.”

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep steadying breath. Then he pulled Draco out of the main corridor and into an abandoned classroom. He locked the door behind him.

“People are dropping like flies, Draco,” He said seriously. “So far it’s just been petrification, but what if someone actually dies? If you know something and don’t say anything, that death will be on _your_ head. Do you want to have to live with that?

Harry knew he was being cruel, but he needed the truth. He had to know that Draco wasn’t involved. “What if it’s Hermione? You two have been getting along. What if Slytherin’s Monster kills her? Could you live with yourself?”

“Stop it.” Draco was shaking like a leaf.

“No. I won’t. Not until you tell me.”

Draco sank down to the floor. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs.

“I don’t want anyone to die,” he said hopelessly. “I’m not a killer.”

“I know.” Harry sat down beside his friend.

“But I don’t… I don’t want to get someone I care about in trouble.”

“You know who Slytherin’s Heir is?”

“No.”

Harry frowned. “Then what are you so worried – ”

“My Father,” Draco said softly.

“What?”

Draco shook his head. “No. This was stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Harry grabbed Draco’s arm. “This is the exact opposite of stupid,” he said. “And…I won’t tell anyone about this. I promise. It’ll be just between us.”

“And Granger and Weasley,” Draco said wryly.

Harry hesitated. “If you don’t want me to tell them I won’t.” And he meant it, even though he knew it would be hard.

“You would, too. Wouldn’t you?” Draco laughed mirthlessly. “You should tell them. Just, keep it within your little hive mind, okay?”

Harry nodded. Draco took a deep breath and then began talking very quietly. “My Father is…involved. He told me something would happen this year before anyone was even petrified and he warned me not to get involved. I’m to let the Heir p-purge Hogwarts of well, you know. I don’t want anyone to get hurt, but I don’t want my Father to go to jail. He’s my _Father_.”

Harry wondered at the amount of courage it took for Draco to defy his Father so completely, to shirk generations of tradition and ignorant hatred. In Draco’s position, Harry was not sure he could have done it.

“That was very brave, Draco. Thank you for telling me.”

“I’m not meant to be brave, I’m a snake.”

“Well, I think everyone’s got a bit of all four Houses in them,” Harry said. “And you might just have saved us all.”

Draco managed a poor imitation of his usual smirk. “I’ll leave the hero-ing to you, thanks.”

\--

**Diary***

_“Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle.”_

It didn’t take long for Harry to realize that Tom’s Diary was not a normal diary at all. The fact that the book swallowed up ink was a sign, but the fact that the Diary could talk to him? Like there was actually someone in there…

“Are, are you trapped in there?” Harry scrawled into the page.

_“What do you mean?”_

“Your soul. Who did this to you?” Harry pulled his quill from the page and began running his fingers over the cover of the Diary searching for any sign of a blood seal. There was none that he could see. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

_“What are you talking about? I’m just a memory, Harry.”_ Tom wrote.

“No. You’re more than just an enchantment, even more so than the Sorting Hat.” Harry couldn’t explain any more than that. He had so firmly instilled his fear of telling people about his dreams that he couldn’t bring himself to say something even now to a soul trapped within a book.

Tom didn’t write anything for a long time. Harry began to worry that he’d upset the older boy.

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I don’t care if you’re a soul bound to this book. I still think you’re a human being.”

_“Oh, no. I must apologize. You merely took me by surprise.”_ The words oozed hesitantly out onto the page.

“You must be very lonely.”

_“I make do. But enough about me. I would like to know more about you. What is happening in the world outside my pages?”_

Harry thought of how awful it was to be trapped within a suit of armor and wondered at how much worse it would be to be trapped in a book.

He spoke to Tom about the outside world and when he mentioned the Chamber of Secrets, the boy within the Diary became very interested. Tom knew quite a bit about the Chamber because he had been a student at Hogwarts the last time the Chamber had been opened.

Tom showed him why he had gotten the award for service to the school that still sat in the trophy room.

Hagrid. Hagrid had opened the Chamber.

\--

**Stolen**

Someone stole the Diary.

They ripped apart Harry’s trunk, tore the sheets off his bed and scared Amestris senseless.

Harry clung to his kitten and felt like someone had stabbed him in the heart. He understood Tom’s situation. He knew what it was like to be trapped without a body. He had wanted to help, had started pulling books out of the library that might help find a way to give Tom his body back.

But now the Diary was gone.

And the only real clue they had was that only a Gryffindor could have taken it.

\--

**Petrified**

Hermione ran off just before the match with Hufflepuff, telling them that she’d thought of something and needed to go to the library.

Harry wanted to run after her, but he had responsibilities to the team.

Upon arriving on the field, though, he learned that the match was cancelled. He quickly learned why.

Hermione had been petrified.

\--

**Hagrid**

Harry and Ron watched beneath the Invisibility Cloak as events unfolded in Hagrid’s hut.

The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, had come to take Hagrid away. Lucius Malfoy had come as well on another errand entirely. He had come to deliver an order of suspension to Dumbledore.

Fudge looked panicked at the prospect of the School Governor’s removing Dumbledore from his position. Hagrid was incensed. Harry was watchful. Lucius really was somehow involved in the Chamber being opened. Harry was sure of it. If only he knew how or had any proof.

Dumbledore looked serene as always.

Harry could feel the old man’s eyes on them even hidden as they were in the corner as he spoke of loyalty and aid to those who sought it.

Hagrid’s parting message was less poetic and much more practical.

“Follow the spiders.”

\--

**Spiders**

Once they actually managed to find some spiders to follow, the trail led them straight into the Forbidden Forest. Even with Hagrid’s dog, Fang, at their side, going into the Forest again was a daunting task.

But they needed to know the truth. So they went.

Being _friends of Hagrid_ got them answers from the giant spider called Aragog. They learned that Hagrid was innocent. They learned that a girl died in a bathroom. And that whatever monster was in the school was something that spiders feared above all else.

Being _friends of Hagrid_ was not enough to prevent Aragog from trying to feed them to his children.

There was not enough time to draw his wand or a transmutation circle. Not cornered in the dark as they were. Harry was sure they would die.

But they didn’t. Mr. Weasley’s car saved them.

It was only much later when they were safe in their dorms and just drifting off to sleep that Harry realized who the dead girl must have been.

Moaning Myrtle.

\--

**Hint**

In an attempt to go to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, Harry and Ron found themselves instead visiting Hermione in the Hospital Wing.

It was painful to look at her. Harry was grateful the Mandrakes were ready for cutting. He wanted his friend back as soon as possible.

Then they found the crumpled not in her hand.

A Basilisk.

_Of course._ That was why Harry kept hearing a voice that no one else could. And…

_Pipes_.

It was in the walls…the plumbing, the bathroom.

They needed to go to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

\--

**Taken****

In the wardrobe in the staffroom they heard the news.

_“Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.”_

Ginny Weasley. Ron’s little sister had been taken. She was at the mercy of a basilisk and whoever commanded it.

They tried to tell Lockhart what they knew, but the man was a hopeless fraud. They tied him up and brought him to Myrtle’s bathroom where they learned how she had died.

It didn’t take long for them to figure out where the entrance must be in the room, but before they left, Harry felt the sudden urge to do something.

“What are you doing, mate?” Ron asked as Harry pulled off his school robe.

Harry ignored him and waved his wand. He’d have preferred to use a transmutation circle, but there was no time for that. The robe changed. It became a blood-red jacket with a black Flamel on the back.

Ron stared at him as though he was crazy. “Why are you painting a target on yourself? And what’s with the snake?”

“It’s a Flamel,” Harry answered absently as he pulled on the jacket. “And if I’m going to fight a Basilisk I’m going to do it in style.”

“You have a terrible sense of style,” Ron muttered incredulously.

Harry laughed and got to work trying to figure out how to speak Parseltongue to a sink.

\--

**Heir*****

In the end it was Harry alone who walked into the heart of the Chamber of Secrets. It was he who found the slowly weakening body of Ginny Weasley lying on the chamber floor and met a tall black haired boy that Harry had seen once in a memory.

Harry knelt at Ginny’s side. He shook her shoulders, but she would not wake and Tom Riddle did not seem concerned. Perhaps Harry should have realized then, but he didn’t. Not at first.

“She’s still alive, but only just,” Tom Riddle said. “The stupid girl poured out her heart and soul to a perfect stranger. It’s not surprising that it didn’t go well for her.”

“She’s not stupid. Everyone’s afraid, everyone hopes. You do too, even as you are now. You want your original body back, don’t you?” The words came out in a rush. He didn’t understand what was happening and wasn’t particularly close to Ginny, but she was Ron’s sister. He couldn’t let her die. He didn’t want anyone to die.

“Oh, I do. And little Ginny is helping me with that. I was once merely a memory, but I’ve been given new life by this foolish girl’s fears and dreams. She unfortunately doesn’t have long now.”

Harry’s hands tightened their hold on Ginny’s robes. “You’re more than just a memory,” he said. He’d noticed the slightly blurry edges of the young man before him getting steadily sharper as they spoke. With a sinking feeling in his stomach he began to piece together how that might be possible. “I’ve known that all along. I thought someone had trapped you in your Diary, but…”

Riddle smirked. “Ah, how perceptive of you, perhaps you’re not as foolish as you appear.”

“You did this to yourself.” Harry’s stomach churned at the thought. He knew what it felt to be a soul attached to a lifeless suit of armor. It was better than death, but only just. His brother had saved him by putting him in that armor, but it had been a last resort. Why, why would any healthy person do that to himself? Trap himself in a book to molder on a shelf for years on end? “How could you?”

“That’s a secret. But ah, I see. You’re questioning my morality, my sanity, not my methodology.” Riddle practically glowed with pride. “It’s simple. I wanted to live forever.”

“But your original body,” Harry said. “You were so young; you’d have had to kill yourself to do this. Why would you…”

Riddle laughed. “My, it is entertaining to watch you chase yourself in circles. You think far too small for me. As if a soul can only be in one place at once.”

“Of course it can only be in one place at once.” Harry shook his head. He couldn’t afford to get sidetracked by this debate. Not now. Riddle was becoming more solid by the moment. He was running out of time. “But you are recreating yourself, using Ginny somehow. You don’t have to. I’m sure there’s another way. You can do this without killing her.”

“This is the only way,” Riddle said. “A life for a life. It’s an even trade, don’t you think?”

It was, in a horrifying way. But equivalent exchange didn’t work like that. There was no equivalent for a human soul, not even another human soul.

Magic, though. Magic didn’t follow the Law of Equivalent Exchange.

“Who opened the Chamber of Secrets?” Harry asked.

“Ginny did, not that she knew it at first,” Riddle said idly.

“And the last time.” Harry’s voice was shaking slightly. “It wasn’t Hagrid. It, it was you.”

“Yes,” Tom said. “It was my word against his. No one believed him, well no one except the Transfiguration Professor. But Dumbledore never liked me not even at the very beginning.”

Harry snorted. He had his own issues with the Headmaster, but Dumbledore was a good man and a powerful wizard whatever other faults he had. “I bet Dumbledore saw right through you.” As he spoke he released Ginny’s robes and subtly pulled a stick of chalk from his pocket. He used Ginny’s body to conceal his hand as he began to draw blindly, keeping his eyes on Riddle all the while.

Tom frowned. “Regardless, of what happened then, times have changed. My original goal was to continue my noble goal of purging Hogwarts of the filth it allowed through its great doors, but for some months now my plan has changed. I’ve been far more interested in _you_.”

The chalk stilled in his hand. “Why me?”

And Tom told Harry about the things Ginny had written and the lengths Tom had gone to in order to lure Harry here. All so he could ask a few questions…

Questions about Voldemort.

The sinking suspicion that had been growing in Harry’s heart was proved correct.

“Voldemort is my past, present and future.”

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

I am Lord Voldemort.

\--

**Basilisk*****

_“Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.”_

Harry had never heard another person speak Parseltongue. It was strange that he could hear both the incomprehensible hiss and yet still understand it perfectly as though it was English…

But there was no time for that. The face of the great stone Salazar Slytherin was moving. The mouth was opening.

Harry didn’t bother to wait for the Basilisk to appear. He slammed his hands down onto the transmutation circle and activated it.

A great stone spike, as wide around as Harry was tall, shot out of the ground and into the Slytherin’s gaping mouth.

A horrible squelching sound echoed out from within the tunnel. Then there was silence.

“What have you done?” snarled Riddle. “What was that?”

“That was alchemy. And your snake is toast,” Harry said. He carefully set Ginny down and got up. “Give up, Voldemort.”

But before Harry could take a step closer to the young Voldemort, there was a low rumble and bits of stone began to tumble down from Slytherin’s great stone face.

“Do you really think my Basilisk could be defeated so easily?”

Harry’s stone spire shattered.

Harry quickly bent down and drew a new circle. He raised a thick stone wall and then quickly drew a second circle. Moments after he activated the second circle, something huge hit the floor of the chamber.

_“Kill him.”_

The Basilisk crashed through Harry’s protective wall with the same ease that Dudley knocked down other children’s sandcastles at the beach. Harry would have been crushed if he was still hiding behind that hasty defense.

Luckily, both he and Ginny were not.

The tunnel beneath the chamber was crude and very dark, but it served its purpose.

Distantly, he could hear Voldemort ordering the snake to find him. He was reminded of the older half-dead thing that had possessed Quirrell, shouting “kill him, kill him” as Harry passed out from the pain of clinging to his attacker.

He shook his head. This was no time for memories.

He had to act. But how could he? Just looking that thing in the eye would kill him!

Harry pulled his jacket tight around himself and wished briefly that his brother was there fighting alongside him. It was a stupid wish.

And yet…

He suddenly remembered that Teacher had taught them about snakes once. Most of them were harmless, but not all of them. Oh Merlin, what did Teacher say about poisonous snakes? Then he remembered.

The head. Cut off the head.

That was the only sure way to kill a snake.

\--

**Hunt**

He knew what to do. Now the trick was to do it.

Harry needed metal, not stone. And he needed a clear shot. So he had to see the snake without the snake being able to see him.

It was embarrassing how long it took him to figure out what he had to do.

He hid Ginny beneath the floor of the chamber, behind the strongest barrier alchemy could make. She'd be safe there; he hoped. Then he drew circle after circle in the dark, some in chalk and some in the dirt and grime as he cautiously made his way over and up.

Finally, he reached what had to be the ceiling of the Chamber and there he found them. The pipes.

As he used his wand to magically engrave a transmutation circle into the metal of the largest pipe, he found himself hoping that the Professors wouldn’t get too mad at him for wrecking Hogwarts’ plumbing.

Then, slowly, as subtly as he could, he transmuted a hole in the stone ceiling of the chamber. He could hear Voldemort once again. Any pretense of calm was gone. Voldemort was switching between ordering the confused snake to find Harry and ordering Harry to come out and fight.

The Basilisk…

It was even larger than Harry had expected. And greener. There was a long gash extending nearly ten feet down one side of the snake. That was a good sign. Even if the wound wasn’t as bad as Harry had hoped, it was still there. The creature could be wounded by physical attacks. His plan just might work.

Still, as Harry looked down at the Basilisk slithering around the chamber below, he really, really hoped his plan worked the first time. He wasn’t sure he’d get another chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Some of Tom’s dialogue is taken from the chapter “The Very Secret Diary” from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.   
> **The message on the wall is taken directly from the chapter “The Chamber of Secrets” from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.   
> ***The Tom Riddle’s call for the basilisk and some of the description of the snake is taken directly from the chapter “The Heir of Slytherin” from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.


	6. Chapter 6

**Attack**

There was no perfect moment. There couldn’t be. The snake was in constant motion. In order to lure it anywhere, Harry would have to reveal himself and he didn’t want to bet his life on the chance that he could transmute faster than a giant snake could move.

Harry simply had to make his own luck.

He waited until the snake was near his corner of the room and then he activated the transmutation circle.

The ceiling crumbled as a giant metal cleaver formed from Hogwarts’ pipes and shot down into the Chamber bellow.

The blade came down on top of the Basilisk, near its head. There was a sickly wet sound and then the blade hit the Chamber floor with a clatter of metal on stone.

But when the dust cleared, the snake was still alive. There was a long vertical slash down the thing’s side and it was bleeding everywhere. But the Basilisk was definitely still alive and Harry was very exposed in his perch near the ceiling.

Harry quickly dropped back into tunnel he had made behind the walls.

Not a moment too soon because less than a second before he was plummeting downward he heard the Basilisk crash in to the hole in the ceiling where he’d been hiding.

\--

**Prey**

While it was fortunate that the Basilisk was far too big to fit into Harry’s tunnels, it was now obvious to both the snake and Riddle where Harry was hiding. From the way the walls were shaking, Harry guessed that Riddle was having the snake throw itself against the wall of the Chamber in an attempt to scare Harry out into the open.

The plan was going to work. Harry would much rather face the snake head on than be crushed in a cave-in. He supposed it was his Gryffindor courage talking, but if he had to die, he’d go down fighting, not hiding in the wall like a rat. And he was already taking too much damage from falling rocks to risk hiding much longer.

He lost the chance to choose where he’d leave the walls when the snake actually managed to shatter the stone just below where Harry was hiding. Since he couldn’t go up or down, he decided to go out. After that…he’d improvise.

He drew a quick circle on the stone and activated it. The stone in front of him exploded outward, Harry followed it.

He landed on the snake’s head.

Well, at least now he wasn’t in danger of looking into the thing’s eyes.

Harry was dimly aware of Riddle was hissing loudly in Parseltongue, but Harry had much more important things to worry about. Like not dying.

The Basilisk began to shake its head as though it was trying to dislodge a fly. Harry did the sensible thing and started running down the snake’s head and along its back.

This was a challenge because the entire length of the snake was constantly moving. Harry had been working very hard on his physical fitness this past year, but he had not trained for running on a constantly moving, slippery surface. He would have to talk to Ron and Hermione about reworking their exercise plan. They clearly needed to focus on more practical skills. Like fighting giant snakes.

Harry recognized that he was becoming distracted, but that was not enough to save him from being flung off the Basilisk’s back by a particularly violent shake of the thing’s body.

Harry hit the ground rolling. The moment he got his feet back under him, he started running again.

Plan. He needed a plan, he thought desperately as he instinctively jumped sideways from an incoming strike by the Basilisk’s head.

Cutting off the damn thing’s head _had_ been the plan, unfortunately. But that had failed miserably and now he had to avoid potentially poisonous blood spatters on top of killing yellow eyes and a giant snake that could easily swallow him whole.

What could hurt a Basilisk? Sheer physical violence apparently had some effect. If he remembered Hermione’s note correctly only a rooster’s crow was sure to work instantly.

Harry paused long enough behind one of the few still standing pillars to draw a circle and create a spear. Having a weapon in his hand made him feel better. It also gave him something to use to hit the snake with when it got too close.

He had to _think_. Where was that acclaimed Elric intelligence? There had to be something, anything that could stop this thing. And fast. He was starting to get tired and he didn’t have time to spend all day bludgeoning the damned thing to death. Not with Ginny at death’s door and Voldemort so close to returning.

Harry took a deep breath and dashed out from behind his pillar. Keeping his eyes low to minimize his risk of seeing the serpent’s eyes, he glanced around for the less lethal end of the snake. He spotted his target and made a run for it, leaping up onto the far end of the Basilisk’s tail and began running back up the snake’s back. It swung its head around, mouth wide. Harry put on a burst of speed, his feet somehow managing to find purchase on the scales. The snake missed him by a hair.

As he ran he noticed the original gash from his very first attack. He stumbled to a halt and jumped down from the snake’s back. As he fell he slammed the sharp end of his spear in between the torn scales.

The snake hissed and thrashed in pain. Harry held on for as long as he could before his hands slipped and he went flying.

He hit the wall of the Chamber with an unpleasant crack. He tumbled to the floor in an ungraceful heap and tried to breathe. It hurt. His vision spotted for a few moments before clearing. He wondered how many ribs he had cracked, or more likely, broken. Then he stopped because he had more important things to worry about.

Like the snake that would only be distracted by the spear in its side for so long before Riddle managed to get the thing to focus on killing Harry again.

He had to get up. The snake would be on him in no time. Straight on him with those killing eyes and Harry didn’t even have a mirror to…

Huh. 

Before he had a chance to fully process his idea he was already moving. Twisting to face the wall was painful, but he didn’t let that stop him. His chalk scraped across the stone wall. His head swam with calculations as he converted them from Amestrian alchemy to real alchemy.

_“KILL HIM NOW!”_ hissed Voldemort.

Harry kept drawing and wished the Dark Lord wasn’t so repetitive in his threatening orders. Older Voldemort had said pretty much the same thing last year. A little variety wouldn’t hurt, would it?

The sounds of the Basilisk’s struggle with the spear ended. There was the sound of wood and metal clattering to the floor. Harry didn’t dare turn to look. He dropped the chalk and activated the circle. Blue light crackled up and down and along the wall.

The sound of scales on stone was getting closer, but the transmutation wasn’t done yet.

Wait for it, wait for it…

And then it was done.

Harry threw himself out of the way.

The snake crashed into the wall at full speed, shattering the newly formed wall-encompassing mirror.

But the Basilisk didn’t get up again. It stayed where it had flung itself amidst the rubble and broken glass, petrified by its own gaze.

\--

**Victor**

Harry slowly got to his feet, mindful of his injuries. He turned his gaze away from the paralyzed body of the Basilisk and toward his true enemy. Tom Riddle was too solid for Harry’s comfort. A quick glance confirmed that the corner he’d hidden Ginny in had not been crushed by the snake. There was no time to find out if she was still alive, he had to stop Riddle.

“My pet!” cried Voldemort in anger and fear. “You’ll pay for that, Potter!”

“It’s just you and me, now,” Harry said. His voice sounded much more confident than he felt as it rang through the Chamber. “I wonder how brave you are without your monster to protect you.”

“I am the greatest wizard in the world. I will not be defeated by a mere child. Not again. No, I will kill you myself. With my own two hands. I will –”

As Voldemort ranted Harry looked for the diary. He had seen it earlier, at the foot of the Salazar Slytherin’s statue. Was it still there?

Yes. Harry could see it peeking out from beneath the rubble of the ruined statue.

Harry began to walk.

Voldemort tensed and began to rant louder. Harry wondered if that meant that Riddle was scared.

Soon enough Harry was standing before the fallen rubble that had been Slytherin’s statue. Sitffly, mindful of his ribs, he bent down, brushed aside the debris and picked up the diary.

Riddle stopped talking.

Harry looked down at the diary in his hands. Riddle’s soul was bound to the book. Destroying it would stop Voldemort. But…that would be no different from breaking the blood seal on Harry’s armor. It would be murder. Premeditated, willful murder of a living human being.

Quirrell dying last year had been an accident in the heat of the moment. He had considered himself a murderer then, but this was different. This…he didn’t want to _kill_ anyone. Why was this happening? Why him?

If he did nothing, though, Ginny Weasley would die.

He was a murderer either way. So in the end, there was only one choice he could make.

Harry moved away from the statue looking for a clear space on the floor. The Chamber was falling to pieces around him, but he found a place quickly enough.

“What are you doing?” yelled Riddle.

Harry ignored the weaponless, not quite tangible memory and sank slowly, painfully to his knees. He pulled out a new piece of chalk and began to draw on the floor.

Riddle was running toward him.

It didn’t matter though.

Harry placed the diary in the middle of the circle and activated it.

Something was not quite right. It felt almost as if the process was fighting him. He could feel the circle trying to escape his control and rebound. He wouldn’t let it. Couldn’t. Ginny’s life depended on him.

Harry focused all of his will and his magic into the transmutation and finally, finally, the energy began to flow past whatever barrier was there and -

A horrible high pitched scream rang through the Chamber. Harry almost pulled his hands away from the circle in surprise. Only years of training in both reality and his dreams kept his hands firmly where they belonged as the transmutation broke the diary down into its component parts.

Ink spurted from the diary as blue light flashed. Out of the corner of his eyes Harry saw Riddle writhing and twisting in agony. And then, and then -

The transmutation was done. A pristine diary lay in the middle of an inky black halo that looked far too much like blood for Harry’s comfort. Riddle was gone. All of him.

It was done.

Harry turned away and threw up everything he had eaten that day onto the floor of the Chamber.

\--

**Emergent***

Harry led a distraught Ginny, a panicked Ron and confused Lockhart back to the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. He used alchemy to create a platform that carried them back to the entrance in Myrtle’s bathroom. He paused dumbly in the corridor beyond the bathroom for a moment, feeling suddenly lost and very small. The memory of the inky halo burned in his mind, so much like another halo against an alley wall. He wanted to be sick again.

But then he remembered his coat. His brother’s coat wrapped comfortingly around him. And he knew he could be strong for a little bit longer.

Harry led the way without quite knowing where he was going. At least he was walking. He had two good feet. He had had two good feet…

His feet brought him to the door of Professor McGonagall’s office.

He knocked and opened the door.

There was silence. Harry could feel all those eyes on him. On his cuts and bruises and grimy appearance. On his ink stained hands. But their gaze lingered on his coat. He wondered at the picture he made in it. He almost felt like he was returning with his brother from a investigating a lead on the Stone. Except…except it was nothing like that. Not really.

Mrs. Weasley shouted her daughter’s name and flung herself at Ginny. Mr. Weasley was not far behind.

Harry looked past them and saw Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall standing near the mantelpiece. Before he could ask why Dumbledore was back, he and Ron were being pulled into Mrs. Weasley’s embrace.

Being hugged was still an odd experience for Harry, though he normally cherished every one he managed to earn. Broken ribs unfortunately seemed to make hugs a lot less pleasant than usual. Harry let her hold him anyway. He didn’t want her to think he didn’t like her hugs.

When she let go, Harry walked slowly over to Professor McGonagall’s desk. After a moment’s hesitation he placed the diary on it. Then he told the story of what had happened that year. He told them about the voice only Harry could hear, following the spiders, Hermione’s discovery and where the Chamber of Secrets was.

“That’s all well and good, Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall said. “You found the entrance at the cost of breaking over a hundred school rules. But how on earth did you get out alive?”

Harry hesitated here. His alchemy was not exactly a secret…not really. Except that no one besides Ron and Hermione knew that he did it. Dumbledore did know at least a little. Still, if they knew the full extent of Harry’s abilities, would they try to limit or control his use of alchemy? The thought nearly made Harry clam up completely.

But, no. How could they limit his alchemy? He didn’t need a wand for it. He didn’t even need chalk if it came down to it. Circles could be drawn with all sorts of materials. No one could take his mind or his alchemy from him.

So Harry told them about Lockhart’s true colors and how Ron and the Professor had gotten trapped behind a cave in. Then he told them about meeting Tom Riddle though he glossed over the details of their conversation before diving into the details of the ensuing fight with the Basilisk. He had to stop multiple times to explain alchemy to his bewildered audience. Finally he pulled out a piece of chalk and transmuted the floor of Professor McGonagall’s study into a miniature stone Basilisk.

“I’m sorry about the pipes,” he said as an aside when he described his first attempt to kill the Basilisk.

Dumbledore waved aside his concerns. “All will be well, dear boy. They were in need of replacement anyway. It will make a fine summer project for Argus to oversee.” Then he encouraged Harry to continue his tale.

By the time Harry reached the end of the battle, Professor McGonagall was hunched over in her chair, clutching her chest. “You foolish child. You could have died!”

Harry shrugged and grimaced slightly in pain. “Someone needed to do it.”

At this point he hesitated for a reason beyond alchemy. Up until then he had avoided explicitly mentioning Ginny or the diary in order to protect Ginny. He had no idea what the adults would do to her. What if she was expelled? Or sent to Azkaban? And…if Harry explained what happened in full, would they send _him_ to Azkaban? He had killed someone after all. Even if that person _was_ Voldemort.

Dumbledore saved him then by asking how Voldemort had managed to enchant Ginny at all when Voldemort was supposed to be in Albania right now.

Before the Weasleys could panic, Harry quickly began explaining about the diary.

The old man picked up the diary and examined it closely. A thoughtful look crossed his face before he set the diary down and began to explain who Tom Marvolo Riddle was and who he eventually became.

Harry listened as Ginny confessed that she had written to the diary. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when Professor Dumbledore sent her and her parents to the Hospital Wing, declaring that she would face no punishment for what had happened.

At that point, they learned that Hermione would be awake soon if she wasn’t already. Professor McGonagall left on an errand to the kitchens. And then everyone was gone and it was just Ron, Harry and Professor Lockhart with Professor Dumbledore in Professor McGonagall’s office.

Points and awards were given. Neither Ron nor Harry really cared much about points just then.  Facing death seemed to put that sort of thing into perspective.

Dumbledore had Ron take Professor Lockhart to the infirmary.

That left just Harry and Professor Dumbledore.

\--

**Words**

Harry and Professor Dumbledore sat before the fire in Professor McGonagall’s office.

“What happened to the diary?” Dumbledore asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I can feel the residual stains of incredibly dark magics in this book, but only barely. It is as though the book was purged completely leaving it as little more than a harmless blank diary. Considering the types of magic that young Tom Riddle must have used to make such an object, I did not think such a thing was possible.”

“I deconstructed and reconstructed the book,” Harry said. “It was harder than it should have been. The book…I think it fought me. But my will was stronger. There, there was – a lot of ink came out of the diary. It was like blood,” he finished quietly.

“The diary was not alive, Harry,” Dumbledore said gently. “It was just an enchantment.”

Harry shook his head. “You’re wrong.”

“My dear boy…”

“That wasn’t just an enchantment or a memory,” Harry said before he could think better of it. “It was his soul. Or, or part of it, I guess. Which. That shouldn’t be possible. Riddle said…but he could have been lying. Souls can’t be divided up, can they?”

Dumbledore grew pale as Harry spoke. “You are speaking of incredibly dark magic, Harry.”

“But it is possible? It must be if Voldemort’s soul can be in that book and Albania at once. How? He said he did it to himself so that he could live forever.”

“Harry, you are far too young to be concerned with such unpleasant matters.”

Harry stared incredulously at the old man before him. “Voldemort was after me in the Chamber. He stopped caring about killing Muggleborns ages ago. Even if I wanted to, I don’t seem to have a choice about whether or not I am involved. He’s _chosen_ to involve me and I will not go down without a fight.”

The only man shook his head slowly, his blue eyes impossibly sad. “You are a child, Harry. Have I failed so completely at protecting you?”

“I am not a child. I cannot remember _ever_ being a child,” Harry said seriously. “Trying to protect me now will just put me in more danger. Knowledge is power and ignorance could easily mean death, Professor. I need to know what I’m up against if I want to survive the next time Voldemort attacks me.”

Dumbledore bowed his head and was silent for a time. Harry waited patiently. Finally the old man spoke, “It seems, though I cannot be certain without further research, that Voldemort made… a Horcrux.”

“What is a Horcrux?”

“A Horcrux is a powerful object in which a Dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her soul for the purpose of attaining immortality. It anchors one's own soul to earth if the body is destroyed.”

Harry felt sick. “How do you make a Horcrux?”

Dumbledore gave Harry a sharp look. “Why do you want to know that?”

“I need to understand.” Harry struggled to find the right words. “I just…why would someone do that to himself? There is an order to the world. All is one and one is all. This. It’s even worse than trying to bring back the dead. And yet, it works. How? Why?”

Dumbledore relaxed in his chair and Harry wondered briefly what the old man had thought he was going to say. “It is good that you understand just how vile a work it is. Splitting a soul is a violation of the natural order. It can only be achieved by an act of evil. An act of murder.”

“So that’s it, then,” Harry said. “It really is possible. And I murdered that part of his soul.”

“Good heavens, boy!” Dumbledore leaned forward and placed his hand on Harry’s knee. “Is that what you were worried about?”

“I committed murder, sir. I knew what I was doing,” Harry said solemnly. “I knew I had to kill him so that Ginny could live. A life for a life even though equivalent exchange doesn’t work like that in practice. Will – ” he made himself say it, “will you send me to Azkaban?”

Dumbledore pulled his hand back and used it to readjust his half-moon spectacles. “Harry, it eases my heart to know that even in the midst of all of this, your heart could stay so pure. No, you will not be sent to Azkaban. You will not be punished for defending yourself. And though I do not think it will ease your mind, I assure you that you are hardly a murderer.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t ease my mind,” Harry said. “A soul is a soul. No matter who is belongs to and, even if it is only a part of one.”

The headmaster’s eyes twinkled kindly in the firelight. “That is very wise of you.”

Harry thought about his dream self’s armor and shook his head. “No. It’s pretty selfish of me.”

Dumbledore tiled his head to the side curiously. But Harry did not answer the implied question, instead he asked, “I destroyed his Horcrux. Now can Voldemort be killed for good?”

The old man hesitated. “I’m not entirely sure. Although I hope that that is true, I fear that Voldemort must have taken a great many more precautions to ensure his longevity.”

“Was he really so afraid of death?”

“To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. For others, it is a terrifying prospect. Proof of just how little in this world they can actually control. People have gone to horrible lengths to avoid what they see as the worst fate imaginable. The trouble with this view is that to fear death is to fear life itself. You cannot have one without the other. Death is the natural conclusion to life and life is the consequence of death. In seeking immortality, a person must sever their ties to that cycle, never realizing that in doing so they are losing exactly what they seek.”

“All is one and one is all,” Harry said the familiar words for the second time that night.

“Indeed.”

Harry nodded and quietly considered what Dumbledore had told him.

After a long silence, Dumbledore said, “On a much lighter note, may I ask about your odd attire?”

Harry blinked in surprise. He had almost forgotten that he was still wearing his brother’s coat.

Smiling faintly he said, “I just figured that if I was going to die I should do it in style.”

Dumbledore nodded sagely. “A wise choice and a lovely shade of red. Though I must say, I am very curious about the symbol on the back of your coat. I take it that it is a variation on the Rod of Asclepius?”

“Not quite,” Harry said, wondering as he did how much he could tell Dumbledore about the Flamel without having to explain his dreams.

“Is it the caduceus then, considering your affinity for alchemy?”

“No. Though that’s closer. It represents the “fixing of the volatile”, an important step in an alchemical work’s process. The symbol… it means a lot to me, Professor.”

Before Dumbledore could say anything in response to that, the door to Professor McGonagall’s study flew open revealing an irate Lucius Malfoy.

\--

**Freedom**

Harry listened as Professor Dumbledore verbally sparred with Draco’s father. For all of Harry’s misgivings about the old man, he could appreciate the skill with which Dumbledore managed to put Mr. Malfoy in his place while revealing barely a fraction of what Dumbledore himself knew. Mr. Malfoy, on the other hand, gave away just about everything and Harry finally put the whole story together.

The fact that Mr. Malfoy had apparently been using this entire debacle as a ploy to help defeat Mr. Weasley’s Muggle Protection Act made Harry very angry. He wanted to punch the man for everything that all of Hogwarts had had to endure this year. It was easy to be angry.

But Harry remembered the hopeless look on Draco’s face when he had confessed his father’s involvement. That made the flame of his anger gutter and die.

Family was…everything. Harry knew that.

How many people at Hogwarts, Harry wondered, were in the same situation as Draco?

How many people would have to be killed before the Wizarding World could move beyond its old prejudices?

Why couldn’t people just live their lives and be happy?

Such questions were too big for him. Harry averted his eyes from the arguing men and finally registered that strange little creature bobbing about Mr. Malfoy’s shoes. It was Dobby.

When Mr. Malfoy stormed from the room, kicking Dobby in front of him as he went, Harry knew he had to do something. With Professor Dumbledore’s permission, Harry took the ruined diary and ran as best he could after Mr. Malfoy. He paused only long enough to pull off his right shoe and a filthy sock. Harry shoved the diary into his sock. Then he slipped his shoe back on caught up to Mr. Malfoy.

Harry’s half-baked scheme worked perfectly. Mr. Malfoy had been so disgusted by Harry’s grime covered sock that he hadn’t paid attention to what he was doing with the article of clothing.

Dobby was free.

Harry watched tiredly as Dobby fought off his former master.

“Thanks, Dobby,” he said once Mr. Malfoy was gone.

“Harry Potter thanked Dobby!” Tears gathered in the elf’s large eyes. “Harry Potter is a great Wizard. Harry Potter will save us all, this is the least Dobby can do,” the house elf said. “Dobby is forever in Harry Potter’s debt!”

“You don’t – ” Harry sighed at the earnest look in the House Elf’s eyes. “Just promise to never try to save my life again, okay?”

Dobby blinked and then nodded solemnly. “Of course, Harry Potter, sir!”

“Ah…and actually, can you help me to the infirmary?”

“Is Harry Potter injured?” Dobby looked distraught at the prospect.

“Just some broken ribs,” Harry said with a shrug.

Dobby grabbed ahold of Harry’s hand. There was a loud crack and then Harry had the disorienting feeling of being pushed through a very tiny pipe.

Harry’s feet hit the floor hard. Nauseated, Harry fell to his knees and gagged. Only the fact that his stomach was completely empty prevented him from throwing up.

When he glanced up he found himself just outside the Infirmary. Dobby was nowhere to be found.

Asking Dobby favors was clearly a hazardous task, Harry thought wryly as he carefully got to his feet and stumbled into the Hospital Wing.

\--

**Feast**

Harry nearly missed the celebration feast because Madame Pomfrey wanted him to stay overnight for observation. Luckily he managed to convince her to let him go if he promised to come back and spend the night in the Hospital Wing. Since the feast lasted almost all night, she wasn’t very happy with him when he _did_ show up and made him stay in the Infirmary for an entire extra day.

It was worth it, though.

When he entered the Great Hall, the entire room went silent. Almost everyone was in their pajamas, everyone except Harry that is. He only remembered that he was still wearing his (magically cleaned) red jacket when he heard someone behind him mutter about how the snake on his coat must symbolize the Basilisk he had fought and killed in the Chamber.

But then a completely un-petrified Hermione was pulling him into a hug and Justin Finch-Fletchly ran over to shake his hand. Luna put a crown of butterbeer bottle caps around his head and the Weasley twins set off some miniature fireworks. Between his friends and the food and the news that exams had been cancelled for the year, Harry was having far too much fun to pay attention to the whispers.

Near the end of the night, Harry snuck away from Gryffindor table long enough to find Draco. The other boy was ensconced by his year-mates. They grudgingly let Harry into their ranks and let him slide into the seat beside his friend.

“You all right?” Harry asked quietly.

“Peachy,” Draco muttered.

“No one… no one got hurt.” It was mostly true, after all. The Basilisk and the piece of Voldemort’s soul didn’t exactly count. Or rather, they only seemed to count to Harry.

“It would have been a right mess if they had. Is anyone going Azkaban?”

“No.”

A look of relief swept quickly over Draco’s face before it was gone.

“And the monster? They’re saying – ”

“It was a Basilisk. It’s dead.”

“You killed it.”

Harry nodded.

“And the Heir?”

Harry shook his head. He couldn't talk about Riddle. Not here, anyway.

“So now you’re the one who can’t say anything.”

“Funny how that works, huh?” Harry said with a wry smile and a shrug.

“Go back to your lion’s den, Harry. Before the pride comes looking for its hero,” Draco said with a faint smirk. “I’ll see you around.”

“Right. Enjoy the party.”

And Harry left, firmly ignoring the hissing whispers that followed him all the way back to Gryffindor table.

\--

**Embrace**

Between the feast and Harry’s extended stay in the Infirmary, it was a few days before Harry had a moment to sit down with Ron and Hermione and tell them the whole story of what happened down in the Chamber and afterward in Dumbledore’s study.

Hermione wasted no time in pulling him into a tight hug.

“You stupidly brave idiot,” she said.

“Hey,” Ron protested. “That stupidly brave idiot saved my little sister.” Then Ron wrapped his arms around both Harry and Hermione.

“That doesn’t make him any less of an idiot,” Hermione sniffed. The effect was ruined by the smile on her face and the tears in her eyes.

“I murdered a part of someone’s soul,” Harry said again. That fact could easily have gotten lost in the rest of the telling.

“Yes, yes. We heard the first time,” Hermione said. “And considering that it was done not only in self-defense but also in defense of Ginny, it certainly doesn’t make you any less brave or good. You had to do a horrible thing, but worse things would have happened if you hadn’t.”

“Who knows what would have happened if you weren’t so good at alchemy,” Ron pointed out. “V-voldemort might have returned and Ginny – she might have died. You can’t expect us to be upset that that didn’t happen.”

“I guess not,” Harry said. “I just. I wish it didn’t have to happen like that.”

“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride,” Hermione said.

“What’s that mean?” asked Ron.

“It’s a Muggle saying.”

“Ah.”

“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

Harry listened quietly as his friends bickered good naturedly about Muggle sayings and their meanings. He was thankful that even as they got caught up in their conversation, they stayed right next to him. Their presence was more of a comfort than any of their assurances.

He knew he was a true killer now in a way he hadn’t been last year. But his friends still stood by him and that had to mean something.

He had two good legs and two good friends.

He could keep moving forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Some description and dialogue is borrowed directly from the chapter “Dobby’s Reward” from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.


End file.
